


Ghost of Chaos

by insertcleverpennamehere



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream is a BAMF, Drista is a BAMF, Drowning, Focuses on the Dream siblings, Gen, I don't make the rules this entire thing literally came to me in a dream, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Minecraft Manhunt with PLOT, Respawning, Technically major character death, Temporary Character Death, Tubbo is five in this fic, Violence, Wilbur is a BAMF, canon? never heard of her, l'manburg, messy respawn system, no beta we die like men, pun not intended, this premise came to me in my sleep I'm sorry if some cliches leaked through
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28257528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleverpennamehere/pseuds/insertcleverpennamehere
Summary: She was too late to stop them from wrestling him into the shallows and holding him under, and she had to bite her hand to keep from screaming as he jerked and struggled before finally going still. A few moments later, he dissolved, and the river washed the remains of his death away.And the raiders laughed.Drista had been angry before. She was angry when Dream teased her about her height, angry when Tommy woke her by jumping on her bed, angry when merchants shortchanged her for the fifty-second time.This was an entirely new kind of anger. It curled in the bottom of her gut and froze like a hibernating serpent. Her vision sharpened around the edges and it was so easy to imagine driving a sword through the raiders, one by one, and hearing the wet thump as their bodies hit the ground.They have to pay.
Comments: 105
Kudos: 153





	1. Bird With A Broken Wing

**Author's Note:**

> This premise came to me in a literal dream and it was epic and I feel like I need to do this with more of my dreams because who doesn't want to read about getting involuntarily inducted into a hive mind or getting crushed to death or meeting literal demons or being drowned by fanged teddybears or watching your friends or family get taken away against your will while you only watch - anywho onto the story you angst goblins

_Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe like your life depends on it, because it does._

Tubbo stared up at her, realization sparking in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to exclaim. Wilbur met her panicked gaze for a millisecond. 

Sometimes the silent conversations last a lifetime. 

Wilbur yelled and turned to punch the man closest to him, and Drista was forced to watch as he was wrestled to the ground, screaming and shouting. Tubbo was grabbed and thrown over the shoulder of one of the raiders. His cries were drowned out by the war drumming in Drista’s ears. 

_Don’t breathe!_

She could hold her breath, but she couldn’t stop tears from sliding down her face, washing away thin streaks of paint. Fortunately Wilbur’s distraction had worked, and now Drista had a clear view of the courtyard from the pedestal she was occupying. Dream was on the ground, and his arm looked broken. His face was completely covered in blood. His mask lay discarded on the river bank, but at least he hadn’t gone down without a fight - three of the raiders were limping or bleeding heavily, and one was a lump on the ground. 

That still left six able-bodied raiders, all of which were dragging her family into a line against the river. Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo, Dream, Punz, George... and Sapnap was bleeding so heavily from a wound on his side that she knew he wouldn’t survive. 

_You missed me!_ she wanted to scream, just so she wouldn’t have to watch from afar. _I outsmarted you bastards and you missed me!_

Tommy was crying. The sixteen-year-old was screaming curses and spitting on their captors with snot and tears running down his face, but even all the way in the foyer she could see him doing a headcount, realizing that she was the only one missing, and hope flashed in his eyes until he saw the green hoodie in Wilbur’s hands, and he’d seen her with him last, and now he thought she was dead - 

She needed to move. Drista needed to move, but she could only watch paralyzed as one by one the raiders tied her family’s hands behind their backs and bags over their heads. 

_They’re captives. Thank the makers._

And then they threw Tubbo into the river. 

Worse, they _didn’t let him go._

They drowned Tubbo, and the five-year-old’s body dissolved into grey dust and Drista remembered hearing breaking beds while she’d been hiding, and realized that the raiders were going to force-spawn all of them somewhere far, far away from here. 

Drista moved, but she didn’t get very far, because on the way off the statue pedestal her foot slipped on wet paint and she went tumbling and the corner of the banister rushed up to her head and there was a cracking noise - 

She woke up in a spotty and unsteady world, and it took a couple of moments for her to remember exactly why she was passed out on the cold marble of the foyer. Then she remembered the sound of Tubbo screaming. (By the wither, she was never going to sleep again.) 

Drista lurched off the ground and nearly hit her head a second time when she slipped. She could still hear some kind of commotion outside, the door was still propped open but she was out of sight, and why was she so _cold_ why couldn’t she just go back to sleep…? 

Dream was the last one still there. His pupils were blown so wide she could barely see the white of his eyes, but he still managed to focus on her face. At some point he must’ve worked his bag off and now he was fighting. 

(The first rule of being Dream’s sister: he never stayed down.) 

But a concussed man was concussed. She was too late to stop them from wrestling him into the shallows and holding him under, and she had to bite her hand to keep from screaming as he jerked and struggled before finally going still. A few moments later, he dissolved, and the river washed the remains of his death away. 

And the raiders _laughed._

Drista had been angry before. She was angry when Dream teased her about her height, angry when Tommy woke her by jumping on her bed _,_ angry when merchants shortchanged her for the fifty-second time. 

This was an entirely new kind of anger. It curled in the bottom of her gut and froze like a hibernating serpent. Her vision sharpened around the edges and it was so easy to imagine driving a sword through the raiders, one by one, and hearing the wet thump as their bodies hit the ground. 

_They have to pay._

It was only cold logic that kept her from storming out there and taking on all ten of them alone. She wasn’t her brother. She wasn’t a legendary warrior who’d single handedly defeated a wither, who ruled over his small handbuilt kingdom with a gentle hand and an iron smile, who had mob heads hanging on his walls as trophies. She hadn’t dueled with the Blood God himself, Technoblade the champion - 

_Technoblade._

The legend had come to dine at the castle after the renowned duel. It’d been a gesture of good faith, even if he’d scared Tommy into silence whenever in the room. There was a good chance he’d kill her if she so much as showed face on his doorstep, but maybe if he’d heard Dream was in danger… they’d been laughing when he visited, hadn’t they? 

It’s not as if she had anything else to lose. When the raiders mounted their horses and galloped away as quickly as they’d arrived, Drista crept carefully into the courtyard. 

Blood soaked the cobblestone, and she tried not to vomit as she wondered how much was the blood of those who’d died defending the castle. Grey dust was mixed into it, but death was a unifier in how final it was. No one got any special glitter, so there was no way of telling who was friend and who was foe anymore. 

Nausea rose in her throat, but her mind was cold. It wasn’t racing in circles or soundlessly screaming like she’d expected. 

The bag they’d tried to drown her brother in was still on the bank. She grimaced and kicked it into the river with the rest of the debris. 

_They ki- force-spawned them to save them a trip with passengers. Why take prisoners with you when they can already be waiting at the Origin?_

Her hoodie was laying on the ground, soaked and torn in the scuffle. It was brown, now. The green had been drowned out by red. She picked it up, ignoring its sickly squelch. The smell of blood was overwhelming.

_I didn’t fight. I hid. Dream didn’t let me fight - I didn’t want to fight, I can’t fight, I would’ve been killed… And now they’re all gone._

Everyone she’d ever cared about was gone, dead and in the hands of some sick entitled bastards who thought it would be fun to storm the castle in peacetime and take them all by surprise. They’d only missed her because she’d hid in plain sight, drenching herself in white paint to blend in with the rest of the shining marble of the castle and standing on an empty pedestal with her name on it. 

(Dream had said she could join the statue family in the foyer when she’d killed her first man. He’d been talking about a stone likeness. Right now she felt like stone. Did that count?) 

_They drowned my brother and my family. They drowned_ **_Tubbo._ **

She stooped and lifted Dream’s mask off the ground. Its usual white was red with blood, just like everything else. The simple smiley face stared up at her, like she and the mask were sharing a secret. 

_They’re going to pay for every last scream._

Her hands were shaking as she secured the mask over her face. 

_Let’s see if there’s anything left in the armory._

There were whispers following her all the way out the city. _The Ghost of Chaos is moving. The Ghost of Chaos is angry._

They were right to believe so. She was still covered in white paint, but it’d dried with the blood she hadn’t bothered to wash off. Dream’s mask was secure over her face, the smile fixed on the front malicious and angry because she _said so._ A gleaming netherite chestplate had survived, tucked safely in one of Tommy’s old hiding places because that boy was one bad night of sleep away from turning into a racoon. 

The horse merchant hadn’t said a word when she’d walked into his stable, and neither had she. He only needed to take one look at the mask, netherite, and blood painting her arms and legs and he was saddling up his fastest horse. 

“Free of charge,” he told her as she swung into the saddle. 

She didn’t respond. It was one of Dream’s favorite intimidation tactics, but now she wondered how much of it was just him hiding how scared he was. 

And now she was passing the city gates and out into open wilderness. As she crested the hill over Esempi, she reigned her horse in and glanced back at it. 

_Untouched._

Only the white castle she’d called home all her life was stained and broken. 

It didn’t make sense, but no matter what they’d wanted from them, they were about to get more than they bargained for. Far to the south was the road to the Origin, undoubtedly where the posse who’d slayed her family was going. 

Determination rose in Drista’s throat as she pulled her heavy cloak together around herself and turned her horse northwards. 

Technoblade was waiting. 

* * *

Dream woke with a start somewhere dark and cold. That wasn’t unusual, but that wasn’t right, either. 

It took his eyes a minute to adjust, and by then he’d felt a stiff breeze against his neck and leaves crunching under him. He sat up and surveyed the situation. 

He was alone in a forest, but not one he’d ever been in before. He was unarmed and with no armor. It was night, which meant mobs. He would be hard-pressed to remain in top condition if he accidentally stumbled across a creeper or skeleton in this state, so fire was his top priority. The worst of the suckers stayed away from any light or warmth. It burned them. 

Or - fire _would_ be his top priority, if he could remember how he got here. 

_Struggling as water filled his lungs, burning, suffocating,_ **_dying…_ **

Ah, yes. That. 

He’d been force-spawned. 

... _They’d_ been force-spawned. 

That’s when the panic began to set in, especially when Dream reached up and realized that not only had he been slaughtered, but the people he swore to protect had as well, and _Tubbo…_

What kind of sick son of a bitch did you have to be to force-spawn a _kid?_

\- Not only had they been force-spawned, but he was without his mask. Faintly he remembered it being ripped off of him in the skirmish, but anything other than that and the drownings was non-existent. He’d definitely been concussed when he died - 

_Died._

His blood ran cold as a realization set in. 

And just when he thought matters couldn’t get much worse, he heard the sounds of hounds and horses in the distance. He shot to his feet, but his legs were weaker than jello so soon after respawn, and he collapsed against a tree. 

“Oh Dreeeeeeam!” someone called, and he vaguely recognized the voice as that of one of the raiders. The leader, if he wasn’t mistaken. The one who’d ripped his mask off. “I know you can hear me.” 

Dream pulled himself into the tree with his remaining strength, climbing until the branches were too small to support his weight and curling against the trunk. 

“No answer? Poor sport. Now, here’s how this is gonna go. You’re far from Origin, or your little Manburg. We here, we’re all hunters. Damn good ones, too, and we’ve gotten a little bored with our usual prey. Now you’re probably wondering where your friends are.” 

He had, but he wasn’t about to mention that. 

“Let’s hope they’re as tough as you are. Hate for them to die too early in the chase.” 

The horse was close enough now for Dream to smell it. The raider pulled up short under his tree, a lantern illuminating his face. It was scarred, now, and badly. The slash caused by Dream’s axe had been hastily mended with potions and stitches, and now it carved an ugly red groove in his cheek only made more grotesque by the lamplight. Scarface cracked a grin. “My other men are out after ‘em. But you? You belong to me and the hounds.” 

One of the dogs that had been circling the area suddenly threw its head back and howled. Dream tensed. 

“Better run, Dream,” Scarface said, voice suddenly dropping in tone. “The manhunt is on.”

* * *

  
  



	2. Haze

It occurred to Drista as the first flakes of snow drifted around her, that she didn’t actually know  _ how  _ to find Technoblade. She knew he lived north in the tundra, but that was it. He kept his location hidden for a reason. 

She kept riding anyways, pushing northwards even as the wind grew chillier and her cloak stopped being quite so warm. The trees began to thin, and as the forest fell away to snowy tundra, she reined her horse in. 

The sun was setting, and this would be her last shelter for a while. Temperatures would plummet. 

She’d lose more time to save them. 

She could practically hear Wilbur fussing over her shoulder as she forged ahead, ducking her head against the wind. The great thing about the paint was it was acting as an insulator of sorts, though her fingers were still numbing. At some point she got off to walk, just to keep blood flowing, and by then the drifts were to her knees. 

The sun disappeared over the horizon, plunging the tundra into darkness. That’s when true cold began to set in. 

_ This was a mistake.  _

Drista kept walking anyways, unable to feel her arms or legs anymore as the snow washed the paint away. Her hood kept getting blown back, and her horse was balking, just as tired as she was. It was after her legs buckled that she climbed back onto her mount and urged it into a clumsy jog, praying they were still going in the right direction. 

Even as her mind screamed  _ run, run, find shelter, find help,  _ she could feel other parts of it beginning to blink out. The cold bit close, and she began to wonder what she was looking for again. Why was she here? Couldn’t she take a nap? 

Her head throbbed hard where she’d hit it on the banister, but even that began to numb. She knew that wasn’t good. None of this was good. 

She didn’t even notice when darker shadows started rising up around her, gleaming faintly of snow on branches. She didn’t notice when her horse finally stumbled to a stop and stood, legs trembling. She didn’t notice when somewhere to the right the sky lightened. 

She just sat there, head tucked close to her chest and reins slipping from her hands. 

Someone said her brother’s name. It could’ve been her, but she didn’t remember opening her mouth. The mask felt heavy on her face. 

A hand landed on her leg, and she jerked, nearly falling off her horse. Her fingers were stiff and barely responded as she pulled back. A blurry figure moved out of the way of crunching hooves, and she stared at them, heaving for breath. 

“Who are you?” she asked, but the words came out slurred. Why was gravity sideways? 

This wasn’t very good. She gulped. 

The person approached her again slowly, and as they neared she was able to make out blonde hair and stubble. For a moment she wondered if it was Dream, but he was wearing the wrong shade of green. A stranger, then. No one she should recognize. 

“Dream?” he asked again, taking the reins out of her hands. 

“He’s - he’s g-go-gone,” she stammered out, and that’s when the world decided to disappear in a swirl of greys and blacks. The last thing she remembered was tipping sideways, and someone’s arms  _ (warmth) _ catching her before she hit the snow. 

  
  


Philza was having a very strange morning. First, he’d been woken suddenly for no reason, which is something that hadn’t happened in a while. Then, when he’d gone on a hike to blow off some steam, he’d encountered a hooded figure on a large dapple grey, just standing on the edge of the woods. 

He’d assumed it was Dream after seeing the mask and his dark green winter cloak. The blood wasn’t terribly shocking, either, though it was concerning. But then the figure hadn’t reacted when he’d called Dream’s name, or when he’d approached. It wasn’t until he touched them, however, and felt how icy cold they were that he realized that something was very wrong. 

They’d only gotten two slurred sentences out before passing out, and now he found himself making a hike back to the village while carrying not-Dream and leading the exhausted horse. 

He was about halfway back when they stopped shivering. Now it was a general rule in his life to never remove a person’s mask, especially one that was clearly Dream’s, but there’s nothing quite as alarming as someone unconscious suddenly going still in your arms. Phil hooked one finger under the mask and pulled it up. 

For a moment, he was terrified she - they were clearly a she now that he could see her face - was dead. But when he ran a finger over her cheek, he realized the intense paleness was from white paint covering her face and hair. 

So yeah. Weird morning. He needed to get her warm, awake, and fed so he could get some real answers. 

“So you’re Phil?” Drista asked, buried under several blankets next to the fireplace. A cup of warm hot chocolate warmed her fingers. 

“Philza,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if that was a correction or elaboration. “I’m a bit of a nomad.” 

She tried to focus on his face, she really did, but her eyes kept getting drawn to the large black wings sprouting from his back. They fluttered as he moved about his cabin, avoiding knocking things over with practiced ease while also somehow never ceasing in their motion. She didn’t remember seeing him with wings when she first encountered him, but at the same time, she didn’t remember much of the past twenty-four hours.

Concussion, hypothermia, and frostbite, he’d said. Nothing a spike of healing potion couldn’t fix, but potion aftereffects tended to leave the user dizzy. Hence, the couch and fireplace. Drista hated it. 

“So,” Philza started. His wings finally settled down as he perched on the arm of a chair. “You said Dream was gone. What in the name of Ender happened?” 

She winced, and the hot chocolate suddenly tasted like ash on her tongue. It all felt like a very bad dream, and if she closed her eyes long enough she could pretend she was back in her room, not alone in a strange village with a strange man. Maybe if she treated it as such, she could get through this without her voice cracking. 

She reached up to make sure the mask was still on her face (and she could understand why her brother wore it so often, it was comforting to be hidden) and took a deep breath. 

“George and Sapnap had just come back from patrol when a band of raiders came up to the castle. We thought they were messengers at first, they were waving a standard, but Dream realized they weren’t there to talk… he told us to hide and went out to hold them off…” 

Her voice cracked. It was a long moment before she cleared her throat. “I wanted to fight, but he was right. I’m not good at it. I can’t even think straight, I nearly got myself - myself killed.” 

The damn mask smelled of blood, but it wasn’t the time to break down. Not in front of someone she barely knew. That didn’t stop angry tears from slipping down her cheeks unseen. “They force-spawned everyone they found in the river. The only one they didn’t find was me.” 

“Force-spawned - by  _ Irene _ .” It took everything in her power to not fling the mug at the wall. Philza’s wings trembled. “What made you go north?” 

“I’m looking for Technoblade. He’s the only one that can beat my brother, besides the raiders. He’s the only one that can help.” 

“...Have you been trained by Dream?” 

“Yeah. But I’m not anywhere near as good as he is. Or Sap, or Gogy, for that matter.” 

His jaw ticked, and he gazed into the fire. She wished she could decipher his look. It was a long time before he spoke. 

“I’ve met your brother. He’s never once mentioned you, and I think maybe it was for your own protection.” 

That didn’t stop her gut from curdling. 

“Maybe it’s what saved your life, in the end. They didn’t know to look for you. Makers know it’s what’s saved my life more than once.” 

A feather drifted through the air. She wondered how anyone could stay undetected with wings like his. They looked strong. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Here’s what we’ll do. I can give you a means to find Techno. You go there, tell him Philza sent you, and ask him to train you while I search for Dream. Then you two will meet me and we’ll save everyone.”

Her heart leapt into her throat, and she would’ve shot to her feet if not for the heavy blankets smothering her. “How will he know how to find you?” 

“He’ll know.” Phil turned and offered her a soft smile. “How are you feeling?” 

“I can leave right now.” Thankfully the floor didn’t sway under her feet when she finally freed herself. Outside, the sun was shining. “How do I find him? How long will the trip take?” 

“Slow down,” he chuckled, shaking his head. He pulled a small disk - a compass, she realized - out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “This is enchanted to lead you to him. It’s extremely important you don’t let that fall into anyone else’s hands. Do you understand?” 

She nodded. 

“Good. Now let’s get you outfitted properly. You were colder than the dead when I brought you in.” 

  
  



	3. White Winter Hymnal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil makes a mistake. Or a bad misjudgment. Not sure which yet but he's gonna feel like a piece of crap in a few days XD

Phil sent her off with a set of armor and a sword, and enough food to last her two days. She’d wanted to ask him to come, had nearly resorted to begging, but in the end kept her mouth shut and swallowed her nervousness. 

She was a big girl now, she could travel on her own. Even if she’d never actually fought a mob higher-profile than a zombie. 

“You nervous?” Phil asked as she mounted her horse and secured her cloak. 

“Nah,” she said, rolling her shoulders. The tension in her fingers as she adjusted the reins probably spoke otherwise, but he didn’t comment on it. “I just follow the compass, right? Any landmarks I should look out for?” 

“It’s in a spruce forest. There should be a village east of his cabin - the bell hangs over the well instead of in the chapel.” 

“Okay.” She gripped the compass hanging around her neck and double checked that her sword was secure. “Thank you, Philza.” 

He grinned. “Good luck.” 

She hesitated for several seconds, just studying his face. 

_ Please don’t make me do this alone.  _

But she had to. Right as his head tilted in confusion, she nodded and urged her horse into a lope. The needle resting in her palm directed her north, further into the woods. Phil’s village was surrounded by thinner, cultivated trees, but the ones ahead were thick and dark, and once nightfall came she would have mobs to worry about. 

“Dream always favored trial by fire,” she murmured, watching the horizon get swallowed by the treeline. “It seems he keeps good company.” 

Night fell quicker in the woods, but at least this time she was prepared. Drista lit a torch and held it before her as she travelled, being careful not to stray too far to the sides of the road. Leaves crunched and rustled in the shadows, but when she turned her torch towards the noises, nothing was there. 

She let out a shaky breath and readjusted the mask. She  _ really  _ wished Dream was here. 

“I was following the, I was following the,” she sang under her breath, trying to calm herself and her horse. It was spooking at every turn, and she wholeheartedly agreed with it, but she just wanted to get through the night and be done with it. “I was following the pack all swallowed in their coats…” 

_ With scarves of red tied round their throats… _

A low moaning sounded behind her, and she whirled, shining the torch on the road. Three zombies shied out of the ring of light, empty eye sockets staring up at her. She growled low in her throat, picking the pace up to a trot. Her horse didn’t need any urging.

_ To keep their little heads from falling in the snow…  _

A zombie suddenly appeared in front of her, arms outstretched. She shrieked and drew her sword with a screech of metal. It was unwieldy, but she hefted it out and let the zombie decapitate itself on the blade before it could reach her. She pulled it around to rest in her lap. Green and black ichor smeared her pants. 

_ Then I turned ‘round and there you go!  _

Bones rattled somewhere out of sight. There was the unmistakable whiz of an arrow, and the torch was knocked out of her hand. It hit the ground and fizzed out, leaving her in pitch blackness. 

“Skeleton,” she gasped, and threw caution to the wind. She could feel bolts whizzing in the air around her as the ground flew away under hooves. Branches tore at her arms and she knew she was going too fast, knew the road had gotten left behind, but the horse had its head free now and the sword was biting into her legs - 

_ And Michael you would fall -  _

A loud hiss. The poor dapple whinied and reared, and she went to the ground with a heavy thud. By the time she’d recovered her bearings, it’d fled somewhere to the left. Her thigh was bleeding sluggishly.

Light flashed near her feet, illuminating dappled green skin and an armless, grimacing figure. 

_ Creeper.  _

She scrambled away, throwing her arms over her head as the world exploded into  _ light  _ and  _ heat  _ and  _ noise.  _

_ \- And turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.  _

  
  


Drista came to with ringing in her ears and snow in her mouth. She was cold again, except for her back and side, which felt like it was on fire. Her leg was warm, too. 

It took a moment to remember where she was. Adrenaline spiked through her and she sat up with a pained gasp. Her eyes were better adjusted this time around, and she could make out that she was in a small clearing against a hill. In the center of the clearing lay a large crater. Fresh snow was already drifting into it, melting as it hit the ground. One of her legs was hanging over the edge of it. 

Drista swore softly. When she went to stand, fire shot up her side and her knees buckled. The snow felt good. In fact, she could just stay right there. 

She lay still until snow began to pile up against her arms. Everything was numb, and she realized this feeling was familiar. 

_ I need to get up.  _

Drista grit her teeth and forced herself to move. It was slow going, but she managed to get to the side of the hill, tucking herself in a crevice out of the worst of the wind. It even extended back a couple of feet, offering her a relatively dry space to sit down and examine her injuries. 

Taking her armor off was a bitch. At least she still had her sword on her -   
Her sword! 

Drista groaned when she caught a glimpse of metal laying in the middle of the clearing. Of course she’d forgotten her sword out in the storm. 

“One thing at a time,” she huffed, going back to inspect herself. The explosion that had gotten past her armor had charred the fabric of her lower leg, and her thigh was nearly soaked with blood from where her sword had cut her. When she peeled the fabric away, she was relieved to see only first and minor second degree burns. 

Still hurt like hell, though. 

She was going to need to move fast to keep it from getting infected. 

“Just my luck,” she sighed, pressing fresh snow against the wounds. It stung horribly, but she grit her teeth and waited until the tingling faded to numbing. Then she rummaged around in her inventory until she found a roll of bandages Phil had packed. 

By the time she was done wrapping the worst of it, the wind had died down and she could see the moon peeking out behind the clouds. On the edge of the clearing, bones rattled. She held her breath. 

The skeleton stepped into the moonlight and glanced around. She shivered as its gaze missed her, and it moved on. Soon the clattering of bones faded, and she was left with the humming of wind once more. 

Two goals became very clear to her: get the sword, get fire, get to Technoblade. “Survive” was somewhere in the middle there, since she was down a horse and what would’ve been a two day trip had just turned into a four day trip at best. 

Oh thank the makers. There was flint and steel in her inventory. Drista summoned her inner donkey and stubbornly went to retrieve her sword. Once she had it, it made a very convenient crutch, and she was able to make it to the edge of the clearing to find wood. 

It was all wet. 

It was all she had to work with. 

Drista resigned herself to a very long night. 

  
  



	4. Iscariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is a little shit

Tommy was having a very long night. It was bad enough that they didn’t consider him enough of a threat to hunt him, no, they left him in the cage with the five year old! He would be shouting curses at the raiders in the camp, if, well, he wasn’t in a cage with the five year old. 

“I wanna go home, Tommy,” Tubbo whispered, curled up against Tommy’s chest. He absently stroked his hair and glared at the two men crouched over a campfire. They ignored him. 

Respawning had hurt more than anything Tommy's experienced before. Even now, nearly a day after he’d woken up, painful tingles ran up and down his arms. He wasn’t entirely positive that his respawn hadn’t gone wrong somehow, since Tubbo had stopped crying a while ago. 

“Sick mother-effing bitches,” Tommy growled, pulling Tubbo closer. One of the raiders by the fire glanced up and wrinkled his nose at him. “Oh, you heard that, did you? Well hear this! You’re a fu - psychopath and I hope you’re on your last life, so that way I’ll have the pleasure of putting you out of your misery when I finally get my hands around your throat - don’t you dare, don’t you dare ignore me, just you see!” 

“I don’t think Wilbur’s coming back,” Tubbo mumbled into Tommy’s shirt. 

Tommy cut off his tirade and looked down at his brother in surprise. “What?” he choked out. 

“They went after him with the dogs and horses and he hasn’t come back. I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“Of - of course he’s coming back, Tubs. You’ll see. Nothing can keep Wilby down.” 

“Except being drowned in the river.” 

He swallowed and clenched his shaking fists. “Don’t - don’t worry.” 

“I’m still safe with you, though. They won’t get you like they got the others.” 

“I think,” and Tommy said this with the strongest voice he could muster, “I think they already have. But you and me, Big T, we’ll stick together, okay?”

Tubbo hesitated. “Okay.” 

Poor kid was too young to be aged beyond his years. But respawn will do that to you. 

Tommy closed his eyes and tried to do something he hated: be patient. It was hard when there were metal bars digging into his back and he really,  _ really  _ needed to go to the bathroom, but he distracted himself by wondering where the others were. 

Wilbur, Sapnap, and Dream had all been left in the woods as prey, and Tommy and Tubbo were supposed to be the hunters’ insurance. George had put up a fight and accidentally killed himself, wasting one of his lives in an attempt to get back to Origin before the hunters could. The ones sent after him hadn’t come back yet. And Drista… 

Tubbo had said he wasn’t sure if Drista was alive, but she hadn’t been at Origin with the others. He wondered if she’d escaped somehow, or just hidden really really well. He hoped she had. 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he was woken by Tubbo’s warmth disappearing. His eyes shot open and he groped around, relieved to find that he’d only shifted a few feet away. He hadn’t been taken away from him. 

“Bloody hell, don’t scare me like that,” Tommy hissed, crawling beside him. “What’s up?” 

Tubbo pointed to something at the edge of the clearing. Tommy quickly checked that the raiders in the camp were asleep - they were dozing - and squinted into the darkness. 

“I don’t see anything,” he whispered. 

His brother sat back with a frown. “I thought I saw feathers.” 

“That’s a weird thing to wake me up about,” Tommy grumbled, standing and stretching as best as he could. He couldn’t straighten all the way, and it was really doing a number on his back. Once more he checked if the raiders were asleep. “Keep watch. I’m gonna see if there’s a way to bust outta this baby.” 

“Be quiet,” Tubbo whispered, and went to go stare at the sleeping men. 

“I’m always quiet,” Tommy retorted, beginning to feel for bolts. “Just keep doing that.” 

It was a secure cage, he had to hand it to them, but there was a single bolt in the bottom corner that wiggled a tiny bit. He began working at it with his fingernails. 

An excruciating amount of time later, it fell out. He caught it before it could clatter. Someone coughed by the fire, and he froze, shoving it into his pocket. 

When nothing stirred, he carefully tested the cage panel. No luck. He groaned softly and got to work on the next one. 

By dawn, he’d removed three screws and his fingers were ragged and bleeding. Victory was his, however, as the panel now shifted several inches. It was just enough room to get his shoulder through. Not much better than the bars, but it was something. It was his. 

Tubbo had fallen asleep again. Tommy wanted to join him, but he also wanted to scream and shake the cage. Being exhausted and being trapped was not boding well on his brain. Instead he settled for growling under his breath, a habit he’d picked up from Drista. Maybe if he could make his voice low enough they’d think a zombie was approaching. 

He’s just dozed off when he was jolted awake by the sounds of a hunting party returning. He and Tubbo sat up just in time to see three riders come in. Draped across the back of one of the horses was a body. 

“Sapnap,” Tubbo whispered in horror. Tommy covered his eyes. Sap wasn’t dead, he’d have despawned if he was. But it still hurt to see. 

“What luck?” One of their guards asked. The leader of the party laughed as he pulled Sap off and deposited him by the fire. His arms and legs were bound even though he was unconscious, and a twinge of jealousy shot through Tommy before he shoved it away. At least Sapnap had been given a fighting chance. 

“This one decided to try and take us head on,” one of the women said, kicking him with her boot. “Noble effort, and he was smart, too. He should think more next time before trying three on one though.” 

“What about the others?” There was food being passed around. 

Tommy glared. “Hey! Why don’t you let us have some of that, huh? Or are you too coward to feed kids now?” 

A piece of chicken was thrown at the cage. Tubbo managed to catch it before it hit the dirt. 

“You’re a lousy shot,” Tommy scoffed, flipping them off. “Shitty shot man is what you are. Did your mom teach you to throw?” 

“Watch your mouth, brat, or it won’t be food I’ll be throwing next time.” 

“Why don’t you come over and make me like a big man?” 

They had the audacity to ignore him. He banged on the bars twice, fuming, and sat down. Tubbo offered him a piece of the chicken, but Tommy shook his head. “You have it, Big T. I’m not hungry.” 

The five year old shrugged and stuffed the last of their food in his mouth. Tommy turned his gaze to the trees, pretending he wasn’t listening to the hunters’ conversation. 

“So what do we do with this one?” one of them asked. 

“Wait for him to wake up. Not sure yet if I want to kill him, don’t know if he’s on his last life or not.” 

“He was definitely a challenge. Might be fun to hunt him when we don’t have four other hunts to focus on. Has Karl come back with goggles yet?” 

“Nope. They’re due at noon. Seen any of the others?” 

“Jakan’s group got a lead on the brown-haired one. Thinks they might have him cornered in a ravine. Set up camp to wait him out.” 

Wilbur was smart. That camp probably wouldn’t last long. 

“What about the green guy? He was the one we went through all this trouble for. It’s only a matter of time before Ran calls us to hunt.” 

The bearded guy who’d been giving updates grunted. “Funny you say that. We ran into Ran near midnight last night, broke away half our party to follow him. Wanted to head the prey off at the riverhead. Judi didn’t come back, and way I hear it the devil made off with his armor. Nabbed a couple of potions, too. Ran’s tracking him now. Wants us to gear up to follow as soon as Nacxa’s gang arrives.” 

“Nacxa’s coming? I thought she was all the way in Erthe.” 

“‘Parrently not.” 

Tommy’s breath caught. More hunters would be arriving any day now, maybe even  _ today,  _ and then there’d be no chance for escape. He tensed and carefully pressed his shoe against the loose panel. It gave a little bit more this time. He glanced at Tubbo. 

Tubbo hadn’t noticed. Neither had the hunters. 

If he could budge it a few more inches, his brother could wiggle through. 

It was risky. He started rocking it back and forth anyways, trying to loosen the bolts pinning it down. One of the hunters glanced over. He froze and glared at them. “Hey Tubs, remember that song? The one Gogy hated us singing?” 

Tubbo perked up. “Oh yeah! It went like, ‘one hundred bottles of beer on the wall - ’”

“One hundred bottles of beer,” Tommy grinned at the hunters. It was his specially branded one, that he liked to call “I’m a Little Shit and You’re Paying For It.” “Take one down, pass it around, ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall!” 

T’was a gamble that paid. He liked to consider himself a businessman. They ignored him same as everyone else usually did, and as they sang he worried the panel. 

When they hit “fifteen bottles of beer on the wall” it was just wide enough for Tubbo to go through. His heart was in his throat as he tapped Tubbo on the shoulder, but kept singing. Tubbo’s eyes widened when he saw the gap, and he stuttered a bit. 

“Fourteen bottles of beer on the wall, fourteen bottles of beer!” 

_ Go,  _ Tommy told him with hardered eyes. 

_ Not without you,  _ Tubbo’s replied desperately. 

“Take one down, pass it around, thirteen bottles of beer on the wall!” 

One of the hunters was actually humming along. Tommy saw Sapnap stir out of the corner of his eye, and locked bleary gazes with him. Sap, thank god, was quick on the uptake. 

“Thirteen bottles of beer on the wall, thirteen bottles of beer,” Tommy’s voice trembled slightly. Tubbo had stopped entirely. 

_ Go, and run like hell.  _ Tommy’s eyes flickered to his friend, and he prayed Tubbo understood his intentions.  _ Wait for Sap’s signal.  _

Tubbo grabbed his hand.  _ Please…  _

Tommy jerked his hand away and nodded at Sapnap. 

Several things happened at once. Sap kicked the legs out from under the nearest hunter, Tommy shoved Tubbo through the gap in the panel with very little gentility, and a crossbow bolt ricocheted against the bar in front of Tommy’s face, fired by one of the hunters. 

“You run, Tubbo, you run!” Tommy yelled when his brother hesitated. 

“You said we’d stick together!” 

One of the hunters who wasn’t busy subduing Sap was coming over. Tommy renewed his kicking on the panel. “I’m right behind you, Tubs, just  _ go!”  _

Tubbo took off into the woods. Tommy wondered if he’d just sent his brother into the mouth of the lion’s den, but at least he had a fighting chance now. At least there was a chance Wilbur or Dream would find him. A hand reached through the bars and snagged his shirt, dragging him forward. The bars rushed up and pain exploded in his head. 

The world was fuzzy and muffled, now, and he vaguely registered the shape of someone running in the direction Tubbo had gone. A dark blur rose over the trees and grew smaller until it disappeared. 

Someone grabbed his arm and dragged him roughly out of the cage. His head pounded and he moaned, trying to bring a hand up to rub it. It was snagged and twisted painfully behind his back, and he was shoved a couple of steps before being forced to his knees. Rough rope tied his hands together. 

“That’s half our insurance gone,” someone growled. “How does a pint like that vanish into thin air?” 

Tommy’s vision cleared. Sap was in a similar position to him across the fire, blood streaming from his nose and down his shirt. 

A blindfold was shoved over his eyes, and when he struggled his head was forced onto the ground. “You wanna stop being treated like a kid, brat?” someone grumbled over him. “Fine. We won’t be treating you like a kid anymore.” 

“Fu - ”

Tommy’s swear was cut off by a gag being shoved in his mouth. Muted and blinded, he was yanked to his feet and deposited against a tree. When he tried to stand, a boot planted in his gut. 

“What do we do with these ones, boys?” the woman asked. She was the one who’d kicked him. He snarled in her direction, then choked on his own spit. 

_ Damn bastards.  _

“We hunt ‘em,” another one said. “First the kid, then headband. Send Nacxa ahead to meet Ran. These ones have given me too much trouble to not get the pleasure of killing ‘em.” 

There was the sound of a boot hitting flesh to his left. Judging by the hunter’s annoyed grunt, he assumed Sap had managed to land one more hit. His own thrashing was doing nothing more than hurting himself. 

At least Tubbo had gotten away. 

He still really needed to use the bathroom. 

  
  



	5. Dead Man Walkin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dri gets a friend :)

“Well, I survived the night,” Drista dryly informed the skeleton head sitting next to her. “What do you say to that, Cornelius?” 

The skeleton head didn’t answer. It was, after all, dead, the enchantments holding it to the rest of its body dissolved when she’d stabbed it. She reluctantly put out the fire she’d been nursing all night, kicking snow over it with her good leg. A line of twine threaded through Cornelius’ eye sockets secured him around her waist, and her sword was belted to the other side. 

“And now for the hard part,” she told the skull, bracing herself against the wall and heaving herself upright. A pair of crutches she’d fashioned overnight were propped next to her, and she used them to get herself out of the clearing and in the direction she thought the road was in. 

It was after nearly half an hour of swinging herself along that she realized that she wouldn’t be finding the road. 

She sighed and groaned, letting her head fall to her chest. Tall trees rose above her, the snow making every direction look the same. She couldn’t even see the sun to navigate. 

“I need food and a direction,” she sighed, absently patting the skull’s head. “Of course you don’t, Cornelius. You’re a skeleton.” 

Enough food, she did not have. A direction, she belatedly realized as string rubbed her neck, she did. Drista pulled out the compass Phil had given her, watching the needle swing before settling, pointing towards her eight-o-clock. She’d been walking in the opposite direction of Techno’s base for nearly half an hour. 

“No time like the present?” she sighed, readjusting the fabric she’d tried padding her makeshift crutches with. “Who needs a road when you have a magic compass, anyways?” 

By the time night fell, she’d estimated she’d made it about two miles. Maybe three. The terrain had been graciously flat for the first half, but the second half had been riddled with foothills and loose shale. Cornelius had learned a fair share of curse words by the time she made it to the top of one of them. Her arms ached terribly from supporting most of her weight, and the entire left side of her body felt like it was slowly roasting. She knew what infection felt like, and apparently she’d been unsuccessful in staving it off. 

“I can’t keep going like this,” she groaned, letting herself sink to the ground. Most of her tree cover had been left behind, giving her a nice view of the sunset. “Oh. That snow feels nice.” 

She lay there for several minutes, trying to massage the blood flow back into her hands and arms. It was only a matter of time before zombies and skeletons of long-dead spirits began climbing out of the woodwork. She debated undoing her bandages to check her wounds, but realized she didn’t have fresh ones to change them. 

“So this is how I go,” she remarked dryly, watching the last of the sunlight disappear. “Will you sing a song for me, Cornelius, when I pass? Or will you go to the dust like the rest of your folk?” 

Empty eye sockets stared at the mountainside. She idly followed their gaze. A glint caught her eye - a reflection, catching the last of the twilight. It looked almost like glass. She wouldn’t have seen it if she hadn’t been looking that moment - it came from a crevasse between two hills a third of the way up. 

“What the hell,” she moaned, struggling upright. “Might as well check it out. What’s one more hill?” 

She discovered an overgrown path at the base of the hills, thank the makers, and slowly cut a path for herself as she struggled up. She spotted the telltale red glow of spiders hiding in some of the rocks she passed, but they were either never close enough or decided she wasn’t worth eating. A zombie shambled along the path behind her, comically slow as it matched her pace. 

“I shall call you Merlin,” she told it, gripping her sword tightly. “And I will remove your head from your body if you come too close.” 

Merlin lost interest in following her about halfway up. By then she was sweating despite the cold temperatures, and seriously questioning her dedication and purpose in life. Right when she was ready to give up and find another hole to hide in (and maybe die in), the path turned inwards. There, nestled between two faces of rock, was a small abandoned cabin. 

“Hallelujah,” she breathed, nearly falling through the front door. It bent under her weight before scraping open, and she only just caught herself on a small table. The pain she’d been blocking out came back full force, and she bit back a scream. 

Through the haze, she looked around the cabin. A couple windows were shattered, and a thick layer of dust covered everything untouched by snow. A chest lay in the far corner next to a bed. She dragged herself over to this and opened it, praying there was something useful inside. 

She nearly cried in relief upon seeing two potion bottles, next to a coil of rope and flint and steel. No food, but she uncorked the red potion bottle, sniffed it, and tipped its contents down her throat. A heat even stronger than the warmth of the infection shot through her, and she tipped her head back in relief. 

_ The bandages!  _

Picking cloth out of half-healed wounds was  _ not _ something she wanted to do. She hurriedly unwound the bandages winding down her leg and used her sword to cut away the cloth of her pants, watching as her mottled skin began to smooth and cool. By the time the warmth faded, the burns only looked half as bad as they’d been. She was tempted to drink the second bottle, but the room was tipping wildly now, and she decided maybe that was a bad idea. 

Now that she was warm, the wind whistling through the broken windows seemed much colder than before. She shivered and staggered over to them, closing the shutters. Broken glass crunched under her feet.

“Whoever was living here last had a very bad day,” she muttered to Cornelius, setting him down on top of the chest. She shoved the door closed and dragged the table in front of it for good measure, needing to pause for breath before limping across the room. Right before she fell into bed, she pulled out a loaf of bread from her bag and tore into it. 

“Here, you have some,” she chuckled tiredly, holding a piece out to the skull. It stared at her, and she shrugged and stuffed it into her mouth. “Eh, suit yourself I guess.” 

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. The night slipped away in a series of feverish dreams, most of them featuring a flood overtaking her. When she awoke tangled in her cloak, dawn was just beginning to peer through cracks in the shutters. The worst of the potion’s aftereffects had worn off, but the cold seeped into her bones and made it painful to move. Instead of a burning tingle, the pain in her leg had settled to a dull ache. 

When she put weight on it, it protested. Drista sighed. When she checked the compass, she realized she had to cut through the mountains. The cabin seemed to be nestled at the beginning of a pass, but given it’s deteriorating state, she wondered if taking the pass was a good idea. Bandits were a thing, though this seemed to be the middle of butt-freaking nowhere. 

“I mean… if I did get mugged by bandits, at least no one would miss me,” Drista mused to Cornelius. “Like, Phil said he was going to find where everyone was taken, and he was gonna meet me at Techno’s, so he’s gonna be at Techno’s anyways and between the two of them they could take out those guys no problem. And, like, the raiders didn’t find me. I wasn’t any help to anyone. Dream’s always kept me in the castle. Okay, maybe he’d care a bit, but in a brother way or a king kind of way? Of course, you understand none of this, because you are a skull. And I’m probably going insane.” 

She rubbed her face before standing and packing her things. This time Cornelius was slung around her chest, resting comfortably on her shoulder where he could keep watch. She picked up the crutches and used them to lever the barricade away from the door, then swung herself out onto the porch. As empty as her chest felt, she couldn’t deny the view was wonderful. 

“We’ll go to Techno’s,” she decided, not realizing she’d been debating it until she spoke aloud. “Through the pass, down the mountains. See what comes of it, if we’ll get them back. You know any good songs? I can only remember, like one.  _ I was following the pack all swallowed in their coats, with scarves of red tied round their throats…”  _

Her voice carried through the pass as she swung herself along, occasionally adjusting her pack. She chattered as she went along, filling the silence on the outside to drown out any unwelcome thoughts on the inside. Travelling was significantly easier now that she’d had a semi-decent sleep and a mostly-healed leg, though it was still easier with the crutches than without. 

She was almost out of the pass when an arrow embedded itself into Cornelius’ skull. She froze, staring at it, before realizing the arrow had to come from somewhere. When she glanced up, she saw a skeleton perched in the shadow of a ledge, a second arrow trained on her. She swore and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding death’s sweet embrace. 

The skeleton was directly above her, firing down arrows. She curled under a pinnacle of rock, eyeing the length she’d have to run to get to safety. Her crutches lay abandoned in the middle of the path, her leg throbbing. 

She briefly considered stepping out into the line of fire and just letting it take her out. But that would be counterproductive. And Dream would skin her alive. So she grit her teeth, braced herself, and took off in a run as best as she could. 

Her leg wouldn’t cooperate, sending her stumbling. Between that and trying to dodge arrows, she probably looked extremely drunk. An arrow nicked her cheek and she tasted blood. 

Another  _ twang, whiz.  _ She rolled forward into sunlight. A treeline lay only a few yards ahead, and she managed to scramble behind a thick oak trunk. Arrows stopped coming. 

Drista’d made it. She was out of the pass. 

“At least it wasn’t bandits,” she muttered, wiping her face. Blood was pouring from the cut in her cheek, and she halfheartedly pressed her sleeve against it. It stung, but didn’t feel too large. At least it would dry. 

“I need to make a shield,” she sighed, glancing down at the arrow sticking out of Cornelius. “Thanks bud, but you’re not gonna cut it in the long run.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these bad babies are so short, I promise I know where I'm going with it and I do have a resolution in mind ;) Next up, I believe, is Techno having a really socially burdensome day, unless something urgent happens with Tommy and Sap or Wilbur or Gogy or Dream that MUST have attention right THEN or it will throw a TANTRUM - 
> 
> I see you fellow bingers. I see you surfing the MCYT tag. Yeah, you, laying in bed, staring at a screen for hours. Go get a drink of water, rest your eyes, open a window if you can't be bothered to step outside. Leave a comment :) *clears throat* for reals tho, I crave feedback like Tommy craves Primes. If you could tell me what you like or dislike about this fic I will love you forever 
> 
> ciao, bellas! you take care until next chapter <3


	6. Code Name Vivaldi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno has an annoying day

Technoblade sighed heavily as he pushed open the door to his toolshed. The hoe he’d been carrying was propped next to the door. Carl whinnied outside and pranced back and forth, snorting impatiently. 

“Yes, I’m getting your food,” Techno said, lifting a tarp covering the hay. “What the - did Phil put the alfalfa over the orchard bales again? I told him not to do that. That stuff flakes like a creeper when a cat shows up.” 

Carl knickered. It sounded more like a chuckle this time. He probably wouldn’t mind alfalfa in his dinner. 

“You’re spoiled,” Techno grunted as he tossed the upper bale aside. “Yes, I know you like it. Yes, I know it upsets your stomach. Do you care? No, you don’t, because you’ll eat anything I put in front of you.” He tossed several pitchforks into Carl’s feed bin and leaned through the fence to scratch under his mane. “Whatever. When you’re uncomfortable tonight, don’t come crying to me.” 

The horse snorted dismissively. 

Techno snorted back and straightened. Distressed garbling echoed from inside his house, and he facepalmed. “Of course Edward would get stuck in the attic again.” 

Dislodging a nine-foot enderman from his four-foot attic crawl space without looking it in the eye, and then proceeding to make it dinner, would be the weirdest part of someone’s day. Unfortunately for the Blood God, it was the third time that week, and he was seriously debating doing some renovation just so he wouldn’t have to worry about his roommate getting his head stuck in the ladder. 

“Not like I have anything else to do,” he mused, kicking back in a chair in front of the fireplace. Something tugged gently at his braid. “Edward. Stop pulling my hair.” 

The enderman grumbled, and did not cease. 

“I’m getting bored,” he sighed, stabbing the pork on his plate and holding it up against the firelight. “I  _ really  _ need to stab something, Edward, and huntin’ for food just ain’t cutting it anymore. The voices call for blood.” 

Oh great, now his braid was completely undone, and the enderman couldn’t care less. A guttural snort escaped Techno, and he wrestled his hair away to put it up in a loose bun. “Stop. Seriously. Your hands are dirty and I just washed it.” 

A warble. 

“Yes, snow  _ does  _ count.” 

Like the universe had heard his cry of boredom, the door burst open. Edward screeched and teleported away in a flash of purple, and Techno had his sword drawn and aimed at the intruder before he registered who it was. 

“What the hell?” he asked, lowering his blade. Phil bustled into the house in a flurry of snow and feathers, something live and horrifyingly child-sized in his arms. “You gotta warn me before charging in here, dude. And you have a kid. Why do you have another kid? Do you find them on the roadside or something?” 

“Sorry, Tech,” Phil said, setting down the boy he’d been carrying. “Things are a little short-notice right now. I hope you don’t have anything important going on.” 

“I’ll have you know I have very important business to attend to, that you’ve just rudely interrupted.” 

The boy crumpled to the floor, legs too shaky to support himself. He stared up at Techno with wide eyes, before they darted to the dinner resting on the mantelpiece. Techno wordlessly handed the plate to him, then turned to Phil, who was busy shaking snow off himself. 

“Is Drista here yet?” he asked before Techno could demand an explanation. 

“Wha - who? Who the hell is Drista? You’re not talking sense man, and you’d better start.” 

The kid looked up in alarm at his threatening tone, but Techno’d already returned his sword to its sheath. 

“She’s Dream’s sister,” Phil said, and then continued like he hadn’t just dropped a living child and a bombshell on Techno’s head. “Dream’s castle was stormed a couple of days ago and everyone got taken but her, they were force-respawned and captured at Origin. Including Tubbo.” He nodded at the kid. “I tracked them south of Origin, they’re in the wilderness on manhunts. One of the kids they’d kept in the camp managed to bust their cage. Tubbo escaped and I got him out of there before the hunters could get to him.” 

“I - there are so many unanswered questions in that explanation. What does Dream’s sister have to do with coming here?”

“She came north looking for you. We’re going to rescue them. From the way I heard it there are more hunters meeting up with the first ones. So we gotta move fast.” 

Techno rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked at the kid that had fallen asleep in front of his fireplace. The sun was setting outside, turning the snow rose gold and making the trees in the distance look like a fuzzy mane. Something caught his eye, and he squinted. 

_ Oh right. I lost my glasses yesterday.  _

“Was she wearing Dream’s mask?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Apparently it got lost in the fighting.” 

“With curly blonde hair and a green cloak? And a limp?” 

“I mean yeah, have you seen - limp?” 

Techno nodded out the window. “Found her.” 

Phil threw open the door and leapt off the porch. The girl, who couldn’t have been over fourteen years old, picked up her pace, completely bypassing the winged man on her way up the steps. 

“Heeeeeey Techo,” she said, doing her best to hug him. Which was weird. He shoved her away. 

“What’re you doing here? Nevermind that, you’re here, you must be Techno, hi pig man, I remember you being taller. Holy crow that fire is warm.” She was heavily favoring her left leg.

“Drista,” Phil panted, shutting the door behind him. Finally, they were all inside, and not a moment too soon. Techno saw a zombie spawn in his front yard as the last of the daylight slipped away. “You’re - ”

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sprawling out in front of the flames. “I had a run in with a creeper.” 

More grime for him to clean from his carpet. And he thought Edward tracked mud. “Are you -”

“Drista, Ghost of Chaos,” she greeted cheerfully, reaching to shake his hand from the floor. He ignored it. “Came up with that name myself, well, kinda by myself, does it really count as yourself when you’ve got someone to keep you company?” 

She untied something from her belt, and he only just noticed that she had a skeleton skull with her. She held it up, completely disregarding the arrow sticking from its forehead. “This is Cornelius. He keeps me company.”

“Ah.” Phil looked like he was regretting several choices in that moment. “You do realize he’s dead?” 

“Yeah, well, so is everyone else I ever loved or cared about.” She said it disturbingly cheerfully, then rocketed unsteadily to her feet. She seemed to have completely missed the child next to her. “He helped me out when my horse threw me, I found a cabin with some health potions - or maybe regen, I think it was health - thanks to him, and then he also stopped me from getting an arrow through the neck.” She mimed slicing her neck. “Made a shield, my shield got stolen by a zombie. Kinda. It also got set on fire. Anyways, I haven’t slept in seventy-two hours, my leg feels like it’s currently falling off which is probably fine, you’re supposed to train me - ” she twirled away from her rapid surveillance of the kitchen, pointing a finger at Techno - “and together we’ll all wham-bam and get my family back and oh - Tubbo! How’d he get out? Phil, I assume you got him - ”

“Okay, okay,” Techno interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulder and forcing her onto his couch. “You are clearly insane.”

“Your leg?” Phil asked, going over to her. “What happened - can I take a look at it?” 

“Sure,” she shrugged, tapping her left thigh. “Got kinda burned, but I had those health potions. Have you ever eaten leather? I was thinking about it on the way through the woods, it would be super hard, but it’s technically edible - ” 

“If I give you food, will you shut up?” Techno asked exasperatedly. 

“Probably.” 

He did so. She tore into the meat like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. He leaned over and not-so-subtly whispered to Phil, “I can’t believe you’ve afflicted me with these children.” 

“Did you miss the part where I said Dream was taken?” Phil muttered. He was carefully unwrapping the hasty bandages around Drista’s leg, and Techno couldn’t help but grimace at the inflamed burns underneath. She walked four days on  _ that _ ? “Half his force, including him, is currently being hunted to the death right now. The other half is imprisoned in Origin. We owe it to him to at least make sure these two that escaped don’t die.” 

“What, children are part of his force now?” Technoblade grumbled. “And I don’t owe him anything. I won that duel, fair and square.” 

Phil arched an eyebrow, and wordlessly indicated for him to fetch medical supplies. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“What  _ are _ you talking about?” Drista asked. The mask had been pushed halfway up to eat, and between that and the careless lilt in her voice, she seemed eerily like her brother. Minus any of the experience, of course. 

“None of your business, child,” Techno huffed. He deposited an armful of supplies on the couch next to her and lifted his cloak and sword from where they were hanging by the door. “Phil, if I come back and my house is burned down, I’m gonna hang your wings on the wall of my new one. Got it?” 

“Got it.” Phil flicked one wing dismissively. “Go stab something, or something.” 

Techno slammed the door shut behind him. 

His breath steamed in front of him as he slashed and stabbed at mobs. The shadows were deep, but his vision was sharp at night. As gore stained his clothes and skin, the problems buzzing in the back of his mind fell away. It was just him, his blade, and his next target. 

Eventually he was alone, knee deep in snow. He flicked an ear, searching for another mob nearby. 

He’d killed all the ones he’d attracted. This part of the forest was now clear. He huffed in disappointment and tramped away from the clearing he’d created in the battle, looking for new prey. He still wasn’t satisfied. He was never satisfied. Duels, mobs, heck, even the occasional Pillager skirmish was never enough. No matter what fell under his sword, the voices always chanted the same:  _ Blood for the Blood God.  _

“I have enough blood,” he complained, kicking at a snow drift. “I have more than enough blood. I have all the blood I need, right here in my body! Can you just shut up for three minutes so I can think?” 

_ Dream, Dream, Dream, Dream,  _ they chanted, and the voices were laced with anger.  _ Blood, blood, blood, blood, make them bleed, make them dead!  _

Oh, yeah. Dream was taken. Currently being hunted, probably destroying the competition, did he  _ really  _ need Techno’s help…? 

_ He couldn’t protect his kids,  _ the voices whispered.  _ He lost his mask. His sister has his mask. Can he really protect everyone this time when he can’t even protect himself?  _

“I really hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled, absently cleaning his sword. “But I’m not  _ training  _ that brat. Let them stay here, maybe, but I’m not a teacher. I’ll probably end up stabbing her and then Phil’l yell at me. And then Dream will get mad and then I’ll owe him  _ another _ one.” 

That seemed to satisfy the voices. He waited for another protest. When it didn’t come, he snorted in satisfaction, nodded, and turned back towards the house. 

“I’ve come to a decision,” he announced upon opening the door, only to immediately be shushed by Phil. He pointed at the two kids sleeping on Techno’s couch and sent him a dirty look before returning to sharpening his sword. 

“I’ve come to a decision,” he whispered, quietly stamping his boots. “You said the hunt was south of Origin? Well let’s leave tomorrow. I’m itching for a good fight.” 

“We can’t just leave them here,” Phil pointed out. 

“I think we absolutely can.” 

“Drista said she was going to go by herself if we didn’t help her, and that’s nothing but a recipe for disaster.” 

Techno groaned. “I hate it when they do that.” 

“Mhm.” Phil’s blade gleamed in the firelight. 

“I’m not training her. Besides, she’s  _ wounded.  _ You think she’s ever gonna be able to walk normally on that again? Think about it. It’s just a liability.” 

“She’s determined,” Phil mused. “Reminds me a lot of her brother. And you.” 

“Ooooooooh, don’t you pull the  _ ‘you’ _ card, you’re more mature than that.” 

“ _ Think about it.” _ His friend’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Long hair, insufferably stubborn, dry sarcasm, keeps a mob around to talk to, doesn’t know when to quit, loyal to a fault when you put your mind to it. With just a sprinkling of anarchy. Besides, she should be okay. Her scar might act up on stormy days, but I managed to get a fresh regen on it in time.” 

“You do realize you just described yourself in there as well, right?” 

“Oh, hush you.” 

“From what I gather, you were the one who sent her out into the wilderness by herself anyways.” 

Phil winced. “I… not one of my best moments.” 

Techno bit back another groan and looked at the two kids on the couch again. Drista was propped up on a pillow, Tubbo hugged to her chest as she snored. The mask slipped sideways a bit, and Techno looked away out of habit. “Fine. I’ll  _ try.  _ But if it doesn’t work then that’s the end of it. We drop ‘em off and the village and go kick some butts and then return ‘em to Dream happily ever after. Deal?” 

"Yeah. Sounds about right." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not seen the latest streams. Yes I am aware it all goes to hell. No I will not be logging into Tumblr until I get a chance to watch them. Yes I am terrified


	7. Fork

Drista was a very confused human when she woke up on a strange couch with no memory of how she got there. Even more so when she realized that she was warm for the first time in a week, and it was all topped off by the small child she was sleeping curled around. 

“Tubbo?” she asked incredulously. 

The mop of brown hair stirred, then sat up as suddenly as she. “Drista?” 

She wasn’t sure who threw their arms around who first, but she was hugging Tubbo tightly and that was all that mattered. They were safe and unharmed. 

“I saw you when you were a statue and then I was drowning and I forgot but then Tommy said not to tell anyone that I saw you - ”

“I saw them get you and I couldn’t do anything and I felt so horrible and I was worried about you and how did you get here - ”

They stopped at the same time and stared at each other. Tubbo reached up and touched the mask, which had slipped to the side in her sleep. She pulled it off and set it aside, burying her face in his hair. 

“How are the others?” she asked, once she was positively sure he wouldn’t vaporize and disappear. “And where are we? How did you get here? Are you okay?” 

“I can only answer one question at a time, Drista,” he said seriously. She shifted, awkwardly twisting her left leg. She winced. Tubbo looked down and saw the bandages wrapped around it. “Are you hurt?” 

“Not much. It doesn’t hurt as bad now.” Drista stood, and was surprised to find she could put a decent amount of weight on it. “Where are we?” 

“Technoblade’s,” he said. “The guy with wings found me when I escaped and brought me here. His name was Phil?” 

“Phil,” she nodded, and went to draw her cloak around herself before realizing she wasn’t wearing it. It was hanging by the door, next to a billowing red one lined with fur. She dimly remembered Technoblade wearing it when he’d visited Dream’s castle. Then she remembered a slightly more recent memory of him, and groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Oh no. Did I hug Technoblade?” 

“You did,” an extremely dry voice said above her. She whirled, realizing that the man in question was leaning against the banister. “It’d be nice if you didn’t do it again, it was really uncomfortable.” 

She ignored the heat rising to her face as she retrieved the mask. “I’m sorry, I don’t know - ”

“You were sleep deprived and wounded, happens to the best of us,” he shrugged, and came down the stairs once she had it back on. “I’m heading to the village to gear up, so if you wanna be of any use get your walking shoes on. Oh yeah, the kid can come too, I guess. Just don’t wander off,” he warned Tubbo. 

“I’ll go with you,” Tubbo said, grabbing Drista’s tunic. “Can I have a coat?” 

“Got nothing small enough for ya, kid,” Techno grunted. 

Drista threw her own cloak over the two of them. Tubbo was completely swallowed, and he poked his head out from under. 

“Huh, that works,” the Blood God shrugged, and she could’ve sworn a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. The door opened, and fresh, chilly air washed in. “Alright. Come on.” 

It was surreal to be tramping through the snow next to her little brother and a legend. Techno forged ahead, breaking a trail for them through the trees with envious ease. They were a bit slower, and he had to keep stopping and waiting for them to catch up. The third time he had to do this, he looked ready to either pitch them into the snow or carry them himself. 

(Regarding the latter, she wasn’t entirely positive he could do it. Logically, she knew he had to be strong. He was surprisingly reedy, however - even Dream had a bit more bulk and height than he did. Between that and the wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he looked as if he’d be more at home in a library than a battlefield.) 

“We’re coming,” she sighed, then did the exact opposite and stopped. Tubbo was shivering despite the cloak he was huddled under, and she wanted to smack her head into a tree when she realized he  _ wasn’t even wearing shoes.  _

“You need to tell me these things, Tubs,” she groaned, taking off her cloak and wrapping it around his shoulders. “Here, get on my back. That way we’re both warm.” 

“Sorry,” he said, and her knees protested as she straightened with the extra weight. Together they looked like a tall, deformed troll ambling through the forest. Techno barked a derisive laugh and fell back in step with them. “I wasn’t thinking.” 

“You only died like three days ago, right?” Techno asked, and Tubbo shivered against her back. She massaged his cold feet as she walked, telling her protesting leg that it had better suck it up, ‘cause this was Tubbo they were talking about. “Yeah, it can be a bit rough recovering from that. Memory slips and all that.” 

Drista grit her teeth and decided that she was ignoring him for the rest of the trip. 

When they got to the village, Techno motioned towards a clothing shop and disappeared in the direction of the church, saying to meet him at the well by noon. Drista decided that between the five year old and fifteen-year-old, one of them had to be the responsible one, so she shoved away the urge to have a meltdown in the street and doggedly stepped into the clothing shop. 

The seamstresses were all over Tubbo immediately in a chorus of coos and “oh poor thing”s. Drista billed whatever the cost to Technoblade and promptly collapsed into a chair, closing her eyes with a huff. The lead seamstress reminded her of Mathilda - large and bustling and everywhere at once. Drista wondered what had happened to Mathilda and Perseus the stablehand. They’d only been hands around the castle, surely the raiders hadn’t… hadn’t hurt them. 

Right? 

She groaned and leaned forward to run her hands through her hair. A hand brushed her shoulder and she looked up to see one of the seamstresses standing over her. “Let’s get you something warmer than that, dear,” she said, and helped Drista to her feet. “You and your brother look positively ragged.” 

It was nice to be fussed over for once, and Tubbo made faces at her from where he was getting fitted for a dark green winter tunic. Drista picked a lighter shade of green for hers. An order was sent over to the cobbler for two pairs of sturdy boots, and Tubbo was even made a warm cloak that accented the yellow trim on his tunic. 

“Now I feel like a proper prince,” he laughed, twirling around. “We can’t forget to thank Techno for helping us.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she shrugged. Through the window, she caught a glimpse of black feathers. “I think Phil’s here.” 

“Phil!” Tubbo was out the door before Drista could escape from her own pedestal of pins and needles. “Hey, Phil! Look! I got a new outfit!” 

“Now the three of us match,” Phil chuckled, ducking into the shop. A seamstress protested good naturedly and fussed at his wings, which he playfully batted her with. “Or, as close as we can. Hey Sally.” 

“Philza Minecraft,” she huffed. “Fancy you showing up here all covered in coal dust and making like you own the place!” 

“Coal dust?” sure enough, he was tracking black dust. “Oh, yes, I spent the night mining for ore. I was supposed to meet Techno here.” 

“Last I saw he was at the church,” Drista grumbled.

“I’ll head there, then. You want to come with me, Tubbo? Looks like Drista won’t be done here for a little while longer.” 

“I love watching the clergymen,” Tubbo smiled. “Almost as much as I like bees.” 

“Oh? What do you like about bees, then…?” 

Their voices faded as the shop door closed behind them. Drista watched them disappear out of view. 

“Relax, child,” the one called Sally said, accidentally pricking Drista with a pin. “Philza wouldn’t hurt him.” 

“I’d have to take your word for it.” Drista missed her sword. She wasn’t good with it, but it had protected her. Losing it in another narrow creeper blast had hurt. Losing a lot had hurt, but that was just life, wasn’t it? 

The moments were somehow more excruciating without Tubbo there. Finally, the women were done, and she didn’t waste any time getting out of there to look for him. 

She found them down the road, petting a baby deer. It didn’t shy away from them, and was eating out of Phil’s hand, so she assumed it was domesticated. It stared at her when she went to approach it, and she got the sense that it would spook if she took another step. She didn’t want to do that to Tubbo. 

Sally was right. Phil wouldn’t hurt Tubbo. They didn’t need Drista there to stay safe. 

She turned around and ran away. And she kept running until the village was only a blob on the horizon, and a sea stretched out before her. The water was still enough for ice to form along the shore. 

She stepped on it, surprised when it held for a moment before collapsing under her feet. She also found that her boots were waterproof. Drista drew her foot out of the water and crossed her arms, walking along the shoreline. 

Cornelius wasn’t here, she realized with a jolt. He was back at the cabin. She remembered seeing him on the mantle. 

She swallowed hard and pretended she wasn’t suddenly terrified. It was just a skull, she knew, an inanimate trophy. Even if it had listened, cared, protected her in ways just the slightest bit too coincidental to not be somewhat magic. 

The cabin was too far away to go get him to calm her racing heart. Which was fine. She was fine. Everything was just fine. 

She almost didn’t notice the growling. 

Not until cold, flaking hands touched her neck, at least, and she realized she’d left her back to the ocean, one of the number one  _ don’ts  _ of survival. She froze, realized that wasn’t conducive to survival, and flung herself away from the drowned climbing out of the ocean. 

She probably screamed, too, and reached for a weapon, only to realize she didn’t have one. And the drowned was armed. With a  _ trident.  _

(The stories said that drowned were the spirits of sailors who’d been lost at sea, gathered by the sea guardians and sent out to make more join their ranks. It was why the water was considered so dangerous - wander too close to it, and a drowned could pull you under and kill you, and your body would belong to the guardians forever.)

This one was fast, lurching upon her before she could figure out which way to run. It swung the trident around like a bat and she barely raised her arms to block it, only to get kicked in the stomach. Her ankles splashed through ice, and it lunged again, fingers scrabbling for her throat. The other hand came up with the prongs, aiming for the space between her jaw and her throat. 

Drista screamed and buckled her legs. The tip of the trident swerved and sliced a gash in her cheek, but she ignored it, grabbing the zombie’s arm and pulling it down with her in a move she’d seen Dream perform in the ring several times. Her boot planted in it’s gut, falling through rotten flesh with a nauseating  _ squelch _ , and pitched it up and over her head. It still had a death grip on her throat, however, stronger now that it was in the water. 

Drista choked for breath, rolled over her shoulder so she was on top of it, and scrambled for the trident. The world was getting fuzzy around the edges, and if she didn’t kill it now, her body would join the legions plaguing the server. You know, normal concerns. 

Its arms were too long for her. She could feel the world beginning to blink out, body numbing in the icy shallows, and she grit her teeth. 

_ I’m not done, bitch.  _

She groped for its face, grit her teeth, and drove her fingers into its eye sockets. There was a moment where they both scrabbled for grip, and then she snapped its head off its neck.

_ Who needs a weapon when you have your bare hands, eh?  _

It wasn’t nearly as bad as that one time she eviscerated a chicken, though it smelled. That was warm and slimy. At least the drowned was cold and slimy. She plunged her hands into the water to wash them. By now the lack of feeling in her extremities was familiar. 

She watched with satisfaction as the drowned dissolved under her, washed away in the current. Only the trident was left, and this she picked up. 

It was heavy in her hands, but not as unwieldy as the sword. She tested its weight, twirled it once, twice, and rested it over her shoulders. The water felt different when she held it. Alive, like it was charged with energy that made her nerves buzz. 

_ I just killed a drowned with my bare hands.  _

She threw her head back and laughed, then took off running for the village. Techno was at the smithy when she arrived back at the square, clothes frozen onto her and flushed and breathless. He barely spared her a glance from where he was leaning against the counter, though he did double take at the trident. 

“Where’d you get that?” he grunted. 

“I just won it off a drowned,” she said nonchalantly, though she couldn’t stop the grin cracking her face. 

“Oh, pog,” he shrugged, turning back to watch. 

Drista deflated. “I was fighting it in the water,” she tried. 

“That’s cool. You should probably go get warm before you get hypothermia. Again.” 

She let out a long sigh. “I saw Phil with a fawn earlier.”

“Oh yeah. That’s Kristen. He’s practically married to her. Visits her every time he’s in town.” 

Technoblade had a pet enderman and pink hair and tusks. Phil had wings and attachment issues and a pet deer. Drista had a skull friend, a lot of pent up angst, and an oversized battle fork. They really made an odd bunch. 

Techno narrowed his eyes. “In case you missed the cue, that was me telling you to shoo so I can get this extremely overpowered armor for plot reasons. And seriously, get warm, I can’t teach you anything if you’re a snow golem zombie, which I’m not even sure exists but you’re a walking anomaly so I’m not trying my luck.”

“Wait, you’re actually gonna teach me?” 

“I never said that.”

“No, I definitely heard you - ”

“Drista!” Tubbo yelled to their right, saving Techno from further nagging. Phil was right behind him, wings overshadowing him in a way that could either be threatening or protective. “We were looking for you!” 

“Is that a trident?” Phil asked incredulously. “Where did you get a trident? I didn’t think there were any wandering traders in town.”

“She got it off a drowned -” 

“I got it off a drowned.” 

“...You got it off a drowned.”

Drista nodded and discreetly wiped her hands on her pants, aware of the fact that she couldn’t feel anything anymore. “Do you know where I could find somewhere warm?” 

Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose, lifting the wing that wasn’t over Tubbo in invitation. “Come on. Let’s go wait in the community house until Techno’s done with errands.” 

“And good riddance to you all,” Techno called after them, though there was a hint of amusement in his words. “You all suck!” 

~~~

That afternoon, Techno gave his first lesson in the field in front of his house. He called it a test run. 

“So what is your plan, exactly?” Techno asked in his dry monotone as he inspected his blade. Drista was twirling the trident and trying very hard to look like she knew what she was doing. 

“It’s not too complicated,” she said, tongue poking out of her mouth as she concentrated. “If I overthink it ima just get discouraged, so it’s basically this: find them, do some sick recon, and kick ass.” 

“No,” he shook his head. His tusks poked out of his lip in a perpetual frown. “That’s not enough. What weapons do you have? What gear? What do you know of their capabilities, or if they have hostages? Will you be prepared enough?” 

She fumbled, and the prismarine tips jabbed holes in the earth. When she pulled the trident out of the ground, a potato was speared on one of the prongs. She pulled it off and offered it. He sighed heavily. “Look, I’m more of an improvisation type of gal,” she shrugged, wiping the dirt off of it and taking a bite. It tasted unspeakably bland and starchy, but it could be worse. “Long term planning? Never seems to work out.” 

“That might work for your brother, but then again, I was the one who won the duel,” he raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m kind of tired of being compared to my brother.” Drista took another crunchy bite.

“You’re literally wearing his mask.” 

She unconsciously adjusted it. “That’s besides the point.” 

He rolled his eyes and propped his sword on his shoulder, turning away. “Look, the sentiment of playing the hero is nice and all, but you’re a literal child. I can’t teach you, I certainly can’t teach you enough to be any help against these raiders. You’d be better off heading back to your castle and - ”

Without warning, the trident shaft slammed into the crook of his knee. He went down on one leg, lifting his sword just in time to block prongs to the skull. Drista shifted her grip and whirled, bringing the butt of it around in a move that felt more fluid and natural than a sword or bow ever did. 

Then Techno was on his feet, blocking the second blow and kicking her weak leg while her guard slipped. Pain laced up her side and she went down on the ground, trident flying out of her hands. His sword came down sharp end first, and logically she knew he wouldn’t actually hurt her… 

But was she really willing to test that? 

She rolled to the side, kicking his sword up to buy her enough time to roll over her shoulder and snatch up the trident. 

_ Damn  _ he was fast. She barely had her hands on it before she was blocking another swing of the sword. He kept coming, attacks from all sides, and she wasn’t even off her knees yet. Finally she ducked instead of blocked, and instead of running away she lunged inside his guard, tackling him around the middle. 

They both went down in the snow. He threw her off, but years of wrestling with the boys had at least taught her how to land on her feet. His sword came up, but her trident came down, knocking it out of his hand. She levels the points at his throat. 

“Teach me,” she panted, “or I will.” 

He stared at her blankly, before nodding to himself as if told an interesting bit of news. “Alright,” he said, nudging the trident aside and pushing himself to his feet. “You’ve got potential. Just know that I was going easy on you.” 

“...I know.” 

From their view on the porch, Philza and Tubbo cheered and sipped their tea.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Techno: where'd you get that trident?  
> Drista, nonchalantly: i just won it off a drowned in the two hours you left me to my own devices  
> Techno, externally: oh, pog  
> Techno internally: Holy FUDGE this KID is NUTS -
> 
> I see your "Techno as a large intimidating piglin figure" headcanons and raise you: Techno as a thin reedy fighter with remarkable intelligence and surprisingly deceptive strength. Also the image of Techno throwing around hay bales like they're plastic buckets is so appealing. No I'm not projecting, what are you talking about - 
> 
> Also I watched the Second Festival and Doomsday and I am now rather broken inside, though I am glad that one chapter is finally closed and another begun. Hopefully they'll lighten things up a little in the writing, though I imagine that's like asking a hyena to become a vegetarian 
> 
> Daily reminder to drink water, rest your eyes, get some vitamin D, and eat something! I love you guys, take care, you're all pogchamps <3
> 
> P.S. I wanna thank my consistent readers, yes you wonderful person, as I'm aware this fic is very shallow and not well thought out. I'm surprised at the notes it's gotten. I'm mostly writing it for myself and a family member, and to practice staying updated and consistent. I truly do love every reader and I'm very thankful for your interactions - it's just one way to be reminded that I'm not alone, someone's not just reblogging a post or liking a comment - you're actually choosing to invest time in something I made and that means a lot. It's been really tough for all of us to be alone like we have, and I wanna let you know I'm right there with you. Maybe I don't have a solution or plan, but I do have love, and sometimes that's all we have left to give and it's enough. o7 my dudes, you've got this.


	8. Boom Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unstoppable object meets immovable force. They both go down :D

By now, Drista was well acquainted with the taste of dirt. And bruises - she was covered in those. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, fix your stance,” Techno grumbled. He had the audacity to not even break a sweat, and even though the sun was high in the sky he looked as if he could go for hours more. “And your grip. You don’t take both hands off the trident, I thought that was clear!” 

“I know, I know!” she said, pushing herself off the ground. “I know.” 

“Clearly not, you’re not learning anything.” 

“I am,” she said. “Can we break, please?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “No. Not until you can land a hit.” 

She threw her hands in the air in disbelief, wishing there were still rocks nearby to kick. Her toe was still throbbing from the last one she’d punted, but it released the frustration in a way where she wouldn’t get thrown on her ass. “You’re Technoblade! You really think I can land a hit on you when you’re going like, a hundred blocks an hour?” 

His breath steamed in the air when he snorted. “You wanted this. You wanna go after your brother and stay alive? I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart, don’t push it.” 

_ “Arg!”  _ In a fit of rage, she stabbed her trident into the ground. “You’re impossible,” she hissed, stalking away. 

“Feeling’s mutual,” he monotoned, sheathing his sword. He turned around to walk in the opposite direction, ears flickering violently, but was stopped short by the waist-high child that had appeared next to him. Tubbo stared up at Techno with serious dark eyes. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that? It’s kinda unsettling.” Techno sidestepped him, not breaking the gaze. Tubbo just moved into his way. “Stop that. Freaky child.” 

“She’s like this a lot,” Tubbo said, pointing to the trees Drista had retreated into. “She’s not used to the hard training - she learns up here.” He tapped his forehead. “Like me. I can’t fight yet, but I watch.” 

That was far more ominous than anything a five year old had a right to say. “What are you talking about?” 

“Why do you do what you do? Tell her that. Then she’ll understand why to do the things you tell her.” 

Techno sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “I can’t believe I’m getting lectured by a toddler.” 

“I’m not a toddler. I’m a big man.” Tubbo crossed his arms petulantly. 

The one adult present blinked several times before turning away. “Okay. That was a nice conversation. I’ll, uh, take that into consideration.” 

He didn’t feel Tubbo’s gaze break from him until he’d disappeared completely into the trees. 

Drist hadn’t wandered far. He found her perched on an outcropping over a frozen creek, throwing rocks into the ice. He crossed his arms and leaned against a tree just in her peripheral. 

She chucked a rock in his direction. It landed at his feet. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I want.” 

“I don’t have to.” She drew her knees up to her chest. Her hair fell in a limp braid over her shoulder. “Look, it’s been three days since I got here, and it’s all gone to shit. They’re probably dead. Every day it’s ‘oh we need to train more, oh we need to prepare’ but we haven’t  _ moved.  _ I get it, I’m useless. You and Phil just - leave, please, go save them. I don’t care anymore.” 

“You know, you’re a very indecisive person,” he observed after a moment. “One minute you want to single handedly take these guys down, completely plan-less, and the next you want to sit it out entirely. It’s all very disconcerting. Makes me wonder if I’m wasting my time.” 

“You’re not!” she burst out. Then she flinched and turned her gaze back to the creek. “At least, I hope not.” 

“Mmmkay. If that’s what you want then, I’ll just tell Phil we’re dropping you off at the village. You can have your self-doubt crisis there.”

“I don’t know if I’m good enough,” she muttered, nearly too quiet to catch. 

_ Technoteach,  _ the voices chanted. He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. 

“For the record, I did not ask for this, I do not want this, and life would be easier if we just ignored each other for the rest of time,” he said. She didn’t notice him come up behind, not until he gently toed her with his boot. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t give it another shot. Better, this time. I gotta be the best, right?” 

Drista’s shoulders hunched to her ears. “Don’t waste your time.” 

“I might not, not when you’re acting like that.” 

The trident he’d carried with him thumped against the ground. She looked up at him. “New scenario,” he said, jumping off the bank. He landed in the creek with a splash, thick ice cracking beneath him. “I’m a hostile. I have supplies you need. You have the high ground, but I have the more agile weapon. Neither of us have shields. You need to take me out. What’s your first move?” 

“Ambush you from above,” she said, resting the trident in her lap. 

“Nope. You take inventory. Always take inventory, until it’s second nature and you know what you have almost before you have it. Because anything can be a weapon.” He reached down and palmed a thick shard of ice before flinging it at her like a throwing star. She yelped and flung herself backwards, narrowly avoiding getting cut. 

“Case in point. So what do you have?” 

She thought for a moment, before her head tilted eerily. “Why would I tell you?” 

_ There it is.  _

Drista lunged suddenly. Her footing was unsteady and her balance off, but she slid down the bank in the blink of an eye and stabbed the trident forward. He noted with pleasure that her stance was firm. 

“Good,” he said as he parried, “but not good enough. You didn’t move fast enough, and your footing was off. Now I’m on the offensive. What do you - ”

She stepped into the creek, and the trident suddenly seemed to glitter. 

_ Oh. Right.  _

He didn’t get his sword up in time, and the shaft cracked against his jaw. Suddenly he found himself forced on the defensive, Drista lunging with erratic, sure movements. 

“That is so disconcerting, you are so disconcerting,” he grunted, backing out of the creek. “Your fighting style just changed drastically in five seconds, what the heck.” 

She grunted back and followed him, matching him step for step as she backed him against the embankment. Once both feet were out of the water, she had a harder time swinging the trident. Her movements stayed the same, however, and where she’d been unpredictable before she was unstable now. He saw her adjust to this, leaning back towards the creek. 

“You won’t always have water to enhance you,” he said as he parried. “Anyone worth their weight will know to keep you away from it when you have a trident. You lack muscle!” 

He sidestepped a clumsy swing and rammed the hilt of his sword into her stomach. She doubled over, gasping for air, but didn’t lose her grip. Now he was standing between her and the creek. 

“I may not be buff,” she wheezed. He waited for the rest of her sentence. She just backed away, holding the trident across herself like a shield. 

“This is the part where I run away and you lose your loot,” he said sarcastically. “So far the offensive is not very impressive.” 

Predictably, she charged. Unpredictably, however, she rammed the prongs into the ground and used her weapon as a vaulting pole. He sidestepped, and she tumbled forward into the water again. 

“I am really tired of being cold and wet,” she hissed through chattering teeth. “And I’m really tired of you.” 

“I got news for you, it ain’t going away,” he remarked dryly, picking up his own pace to match her enhanced one. “I haven’t seen anything interesting from your inventory.” 

Their weapons locked. She froze suddenly, staring at something over his shoulder. He whirled. Nothing was there, and when he turned around - 

“Where did you go.” He circled, sword raised as he traced his eyes over the clearing. “Drista? You’re scaring me, not gonna lie. That was way too fast for you to just run away.” 

Her trident lay half in the stream. He picked it up, searching for tracks, but there were none. Just scuffed snow from their skirmish. 

“Phil’s gonna kill me,” he muttered, suddenly aware of how unprepared he was for a multi-pvp ambush. He’d had his armor off for the past two days, getting lax after training Drista through the morning, evening, and then some. He was a fool. “I lost the most important kid on the server all by myself. Daaaaaaaang, uh, okay, this is fine - ”

Purple sparks flashed in his peripheral. A large weight landed on his back. Wet arms locked around his throat and he dropped both weapons to pry them away, slamming his back against the embankment to knock his attacker off. 

“Not buff,” Drista hissed into his ear as she tightened her grip, “but I can hide and cling like the shit.” 

_ Awwww she’s tough! Ghost of Chaos, Ghost of Chaos, Technochoke! Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!  _

“Shut up,” he choked out. Damn, she really was trying to knock him out. He had not expected her scrawny little arms to be this strong, or for her to know a proper chokehold. “Drista, you’re choking me - ”

“Blood for the Blood God,” she hummed, grunting against another attempt to slam her off. He grabbed her arms again and pitched forwards to roll. She would have to let go or take all his weight on top of her, maybe dislocate her shoulder. He’d stopped caring about injuring her when she started trying to kill him. 

To his dismay, she simply tucked her head close and took his weight. He heard a loud popping noise as they hit the ground and she bit back a scream, but didn’t let go. 

Black spots dotted his vision. He reached up and scrambled for fingers, hair, anything to break or pull, but her hood was up and mask on and fingers were safely tucked away. Stubborn fire shot through him. He would not be taken down by a child with a  _ chokehold  _ of all… 

Things… 

When he came back to consciousness, he was laying on the ground. He groaned and rubbed his throat, already feeling bruises forming. Drista sat in the snow several feet away, hunched over her lap as she fiddled absently with an ender pearl. He blinked at it for several long seconds before computing. 

“That’s illegal,” he glared. 

“No it’s not,” she replied simply. “You said use your inventory.” 

“Those are my ender pearls you snatched!” 

“And thank you.” The grin she sent him under the mask was positively feral, but there was a dampened edge to it. “I won’t tell anyone I knocked you out, I promise. I know you have a reputation to maintain.” 

Techno sat up and rubbed his head, sighing. “Your form is still terrible, by the way.” 

“Somehow I think you’ll be telling me that until the day you die.” 

He snorted and stood, ignoring the way the world blinked in and out. “Technoblade never dies. Let’s get back to the cabin. I wanna show you something.” 

She stood, and he noticed the way she was cradling her right shoulder. He stopped and stared pointedly at her until she met his gaze, then gestured. “You dislocate it?” 

Her jaw clenched, and she nodded. He motioned for her to turn, then expertly cradled her arm and shoulder. “On the count of three. One.” 

He popped it back into place. She screamed, and even behind the mask he could tell she was glaring daggers. He shrugged and stepped away. “Don’t overwork it too much for the next day or so.”

“I hate you.” 

“Feeling’s mutual.” He patted her head before leaving the clearing, leaving her to sputter and follow in his footsteps. 

Tubbo was talking intently to Edward when they arrived back at the cabin. The enderman was sitting cross-legged on the ground, absently scraping away at a stone block as Tubbo rambled, barely pausing for breath to greet them. Techno made a disgruntled noise when he realized Tubbo had been jumping on his couch, scuff marks evident. Drista elbowed him in the side before he could say anything. 

“I’m changing out of these wet clothes,” she grumbled, pausing to warm her hands by the fire before disappearing upstairs. “You can show me whatever after that.” 

“That works perfectly, actually,” he droned, disappearing the ladder into the basement. “Meet me down here.” 

Tubbo scrambled down after him after bidding farewell to the enderman, and Techno resigned himself (for the millionth time that week) to going about his business without tripping over someone’s child and making them cry. It was all very annoying. At least this one didn’t talk at a million miles an hour. 

“You see, Tubbo, there’s a second basement,” he said, pulling up a stone tile in the floor to reveal a second ladder. “It’s a secret tunnel.” 

“Can I see what’s down there?” he asked as Techno slid down. 

“No.” 

Techno could feel the disappointment vibrating down from upstairs. Tubbo hung his legs over the edge and peered down anyways, eyes widening. “Woah.” 

“I said don’t look,” Techno complained half-heartedly, opening a chest to rummage through it. Next to him, a full set of netherite armor rattled on the rack. “Now I’ll have to kill you.” 

Tubbo went still and pale. 

Techno hurriedly backtracked. “That was a joke.” 

“What was a joke?” Drista asked pointedly, replacing Tubbo at the top of the ladder and sliding down. She glanced around the bunker and whistled. “Wow. You’ve got all the bells and whistles hidden down here.” 

“Uh huh,” he hummed, handing her a shield. “That’s yours.” 

“Uh.” 

“And these arrows, and an enchanted bow. Those’ll come in handy, trust me. But keep them to the side for now. Also some water bottles, I’ll get you some potions later, but have those on you. You already pilfered some pearls, so I’m keepin’ these - ” he tucked several ender pearls into his pocket - “since you’re already fighting dirty. And finally, this.” 

She blinked between him and the suit of armor he’d indicated. There were several more on racks in the bunker, but this was the only set small enough to fit her. “Technoblade?” 

“Don’t just stand there,” he grumbled. “We’re sparring with armor and gear now. You’ve graduated. Congratulations!” he waved his hands. 

Tubbo climbed down the ladder and tilted his head. “Techno, it’s dark outside.” 

“So?” 

“I want to eat dinner,” Drista said, readjusting the gear he’d piled into her arms. “But afterwards - ”

“You can go to bed,” Tubbo interrupted, crossing his arms. “I can’t believe I’m the one being reponstable - reston - making the rules. Neither of you have slept since… yesterday! When you came in and slept on the couch?” 

Ah yes, after they’d spent four hours on shield combat. Techno winced. “I suppose a couple hours of shuteye wouldn’t hurt.” 

Drista stared at the armor. “Eat first. And then we’ll see.” 

“Dri…” Tubbo came around in front of her and took her hands. “I was there. It’s scary, and I’m super scared too. But… Sap and Tommy and Dream and Wilby wouldn’t want you doing this. They want you safe. I know, because they were worried. Back at the castle.” 

Her shoulders hunched again. She sniffed slightly, and something wet gleamed on her chin. Tubbo threw her arms around her in a hug, and Techno decided to bail on that emotionally-charged moment by making a strategic retreat back to the main floor.

“Is Phil back from recon yet?” Techno wearily asked Edward. The enderman garbled and turned back to his convoluted sculpture, so he took that as a no. “Dang. I needed someone to share a drink with. The two emotionally unstable minors in my basement probably wouldn’t qualify.” 

Edward’s bottomless eyes matched Cornelius’ hollow ones, and Techno suddenly felt uncomfortable in his own home. He settled for lifting the skull off the mantle and setting it across from him at the table, pouring himself a round. “This is all scuffed,” he told the skull, raising his glass in a toast. “And I’m talking to a skeleton head.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear we'll get to the manhunts I swear. I just had to be freed of this part of the story so we could get our filthy little fingers on c h a r a c t e r g r o w t h 
> 
> Next up (I think) we get to watch Wilby commit arson! Again. And some other stuff


	9. Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyy bois it's arson and tree-hopping for the soul

Wilbur barely let himself breathe as he inched along the thin edge. Far below, darkness yawned, and far overhead, partially concealed by rock, stars glittered. 

And oh yeah, had he mentioned the several packs of gunpowder tied around his chest? The black dust drifted up his nose and into his eyes, making every step feel an eternity longer. It would all be worth it if he got to the end of the ravine, though. Hours spent prying coal from the walls and every single creeper he’d killed on the way here, it would all be worth it if he could blow the hunter camp trapping him in to  _ kingdom come. _

He’d been on the run for a week, he thought grimly, with no sign or news of any of his friends. A skeleton was balanced on the ledge further ahead, but it was just around a bend and hadn’t noticed him yet. He tucked himself into a small crevice. When it moved to pass him, he yanked its bow away and kicked it down into the ravine. 

_ A weapon, _ he chuckled quietly as he slung it over his shoulder. He’d had to leave his sloppily crafted pickaxe behind. It wouldn’t have taken another hit, anyways, and could only weigh him down. 

He could see their campfires glittering now, far below. He crouched, ignoring how precariously he leaned as he gripped rock, and took stock of the situation. Two guards were nestled on either side of the ravine in their own nooks, thankfully below him, and if he’d been walking along the ground he would have missed them entirely. Their weapons glittered with enchantments. 

He unslung his bow and glanced over its wood. It, too, shone faintly of enchantments, and he wondered if the skeleton had been a warrior in its past life. Only fighters had a need for enchantments. 

He thought back to weeks spent in the market square, composing songs on his guitar for the people passing by, or of festivals where he’d charm a girl or two into dancing long into the night. That Wilbur wasn’t needed right now. He needed the Wilbur that spent hours in the arena with a sword until his nimble fingers were bleeding.

He wished he had a shield or a sword instead of an arrowless bow. It would have to do, however. He pressed himself against the wall and carefully unstrung it, muscles shaking from his precarious trek. Then he looped the bowstring to secure it to his back. Checking that he hadn’t been noticed, he began climbing up. 

The ravine abruptly dropped away at the beginning of the hunter’s camp. If he could go high enough to avoid their attention and come around until he was on the cliff face, then he could execute his plan unhindered. 

It was a good plan, until he found himself stuck with no handholds, seventy feet up, with chilly night wind determined to sweep him off the cliff face. He shivered and pressed himself against the rock. His staff hung heavy on his back, threatening to drag him down. His fingers were stiff, and he knew if he stopped now he might never start again. It didn’t help that his coat was tangling around his legs.

“Oh Tommy, where are you when I need a good quip,” he grumbled, carefully feeling around for a foothold. “Probably running for your life. Nevermind. I’ll blow up the bastards that dare to lay a finger on you.” One of his gunpowder packs had been sliced open on rock, and now his face and hands were black with soot. 

Heh. Wilbur Soot. 

His foot slipped on loose shale and he gasped. His hands scrapped painfully against rock until one of them, torn and bleeding, found a handhold and stopped his fall. He quickly pulled himself upright. He was sweating now, despite the chill. 

“One more step,” he muttered, forcing himself to continue. He was used to pain. This was fine. “Slow and steady. Ignore the moon setting. You have all the time in the world before they see you up here and shoot you off like a hawk making off with chickens.” 

Dawn was just beginning to lighten the sky when he set trembling boots on the ground. He allowed himself a minute to fall backwards and lay in the grass, heaving for breath. He was alive and kicking, though a bit winded. 

“Hard part’s over, boys,” Wilbur sighed to himself, running a hand through his bird’s nest of hair. He’d lost his beanie crossing a stream far back. He stood and untied both his staff and the gunpowder packs, stealing his way towards the camp. 

Half of them were still sleeping, leaving only three plus the guards for him to avoid as he planted the explosives. 

_ Five tucked under the tent walls, right between the sleeping bags.  _

_ Four under their bags.  _

_ Three next to the horses.  _

_ Two in the weapons tent.  _

He untied one of the horses and secured it far away.

_ One in the campfire.  _

The camp went up in flames. He turned and ran. The horse he’d secured had spooked, but he wrangled it down and swung onto its back. Screams arose behind him as he galloped off, but they were lost in the wind and smoke. 

It wasn’t freedom, not yet, but it was victory. A chance to fight back. He let out a whoop as branches slapped at him, threatening to drag him back, but he ignored them. Everything ached and he smelled of smoke and gunpowder, but he was  _ Wilbur Soot,  _ and no one was going to keep him - ! 

Something darted into his path and screamed. His horse reared and he shouted and everyone was yelling and - 

“ _ Wil!”  _ Tommy had fallen back, scrambling away from stomping hooves. 

“Tommy,” Wilbur gasped, struggling to calm his ride down without crushing the teenager. “You’re okay!” 

“Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be okay?” Tommy snapped, standing and brushing himself off. “I’m only being hunted for sport with no supplies on me in the middle of nowhere and  _ oh yeah did I mention we’re being hunted for sport?”  _

“I noticed,” Wilbur said. His mount had finally settled, so he reached one arm out. “Climb on. Are you being chased?” 

“Oh yeah, a whole horde,” his brother grumbled, clambering up behind him. “Why do you smell like gunpowder? Did you actually blow that hunter camp up?” 

“How’d you know about that?” They took off, and Wilbur could hear the sounds of a hunting party from the direction Tommy had appeared. “I thought they had you back at camp as a hostage.” 

“They did, until Tubbo escaped and I made trouble! They have quadrants for the hunts. I’m not supposed to be in this one. They don’t want us teaming up.” He could  _ feel  _ Tommy’s grin against his back. “Looks like their luck has run out, eh?” 

“Hopefully not before ours,” Wilbur muttered, words lost in the wind. 

His concern was proven correct when an arrow whizzed past his head, embedding itself in a tree up ahead. His mind flashed to Tommy, unprotected against his back. He growled and veered left into the thick underbrush, ignoring the way the horse balked. 

“Tommy, I want you to listen closely,” he said. “When I say so, you’re going to drop off the horse and  _ hide! _ Dig, climb, do whatever you need, but do not let them find you!” 

“What’re you going to do, lead them away?!” 

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

“They’ll catch you!” 

“Better me than you.” 

“I’m not - ”

“It’ll help me go faster. I’ll come find you, I promise!”

Tommy’s grip around his waist tightened. Then he loosened it and Wilbur felt a shaky breath against the back of his neck. He took this as agreement and veered again, throwing his arm over Tommy both to protect him from arrows and to hide him from view of the hunters when they inevitably broadsided them. 

“Take the bow,” Wilbur said, unslinging the staff from over his shoulder. Tommy fumbled for it, nearly falling off when they jumped over a log and stumbled down into a small creek. The bank rose above them. Wilbur turned the horse upstream and aimed at a gravel cutoff, all too aware that the hunters were in sight of them by now. They were too close to range, they needed a screen of trees - 

An arrow embedded itself into his arm. He choked down a scream, shifting the reins to his right hand. 

“Wilbur!” __

With a heave, they cleared the bank and were back in the trees. “Now.” 

Tommy swallowed hard, but slipped off and rolled into a thicket of blackberry bushes. Wilbur didn’t look back, ignoring the warm throb in his bicep. He had to make sure they didn’t find Tommy. 

“There he is!” 

He instinctively ducked, missing another arrow that would’ve gone through his skull. This was bad, this was very bad, but he had to keep running. 

It was all a blur of green. He began to feel lightheaded and tightened his grip, praying the horse would carry him far enough before he passed out or was killed. Both were equally likely. He wasn’t looking forward to respawning again - if he respawned at all - but if he could… if he could… 

The horse stumbled and pitched forward, throwing him from the saddle. He hit the ground hard, and his vision dissolved into various shades of grey as he listened to the hammering in his ears. 

A boot planted itself on his bad arm, and he let out a strangled cry. When he opened his eyes, he was staring down a crossbow. The woman behind it tilted her head, regarding him with cold, heavily lined eyes. 

“We taking him in, Naxca?” someone out of sight asked. 

“No,” the woman said, pressing harder before moving her boot to his chest. “Ran wants all hands going after Dream. This one can rot in Origin, if he comes back. Fan out - that boy was with him. He can’t be far.” 

“You really… should… buy me a drink - first,” Wilbur gasped out. A disdainful smile twitched the corner of her mouth. The crossbow fired. Reality snapped away like a broken branch, and he was thrown into darkness.

* * *

Tommy shook as Wilbur disappeared into the trees. The hunting party passed by him, and as he stared at the scratches covering his arms and legs from the blackberries, he couldn’t help but think of the blood that had soaked Wilbur’s coat. 

_ They’re going to kill him. They’re going to kill him and I’m just sitting here. I need to do something.  _

But he couldn’t move, not even after the sounds of the hunting party disappeared. It wasn’t until he heard voices drift back in his direction that he was snapped out of his stupor. 

_ I need to run.  _

His muscles coiled and he carefully parted the blackberry bushes with the staff Wilbur had given him. 

_ I need to run.  _

_ But Wilbur!  _

They were coming closer. 

_ Tommy, run!  _

He bolted, ignoring the way the brambles tore at him. They heard him, and ran. 

He stopped himself from thinking about anything other than putting one foot in front of the other, breathing matched, his only weapon banging against the back of his legs as he sprinted. He couldn’t run forever, but damn it, he was going to run for as long as he could. 

(Dream always made them run, he realized. Every morning everyone got up and ran, even Tubbo. They’d run through the city and out the gates and into the forest and then back again until they could go without stopping, and then they’d go farther. He wondered where Dream learned to run, then wondered if maybe he was learning the answer now.) 

He had to go somewhere their horses couldn’t follow, he realized when he heard hooves. There was no way he could outrun a horse, and he didn’t feel like dying today. So he threw himself into a tree and climbed as high as he could. 

Maybe not his most brilliant idea, since he was now stuck in a single tree and they had crossbows. The breeze shook the trunk. He heard them surrounding the tree, felt crossbow bolts skimming the leaves next to him… 

(When he was little he’d climb to the very top of the spruce saplings in the courtyard. If he grabbed the top, the tree would bend until his feet hit the ground.) 

This tree was too big to let him down in that manner, but he remembered the sensation of falling and trusting the branches to hold him. Now, facing two different certain deaths, he chose his preferred one. 

He went as high and far as he could and jumped. 

His already bleeding hands screamed at him as he scrambled at branches, somehow having caught himself in the next tree over. He was pretty sure he’d hit his head, and his shin was throbbing something fierce, but he wasn’t a Tommy puddle on the ground, so he considered that an absolute win. The hunters were following him, still shooting, and damn it couldn’t he  _ think  _ why couldn’t the sons of a bitches leave him alone??

“Your mom smells like poo!” was the only insult he could conjure in the moment. Even he winced, but he liked to think it bought him enough time to leap to another tree. This time his jump was more sure, though  _ eating pine needles for breakfast  _ was not something that had been on his to-do list when he’d woken up. He spared several precious seconds to tear the bottom of his shirt and wrap his hands, before he was on to the next tree like freaking Spiderman. 

He both hated and loved it. On the one hand, he’d never felt more alive; on the other, he’d never felt closer to death. And oh yeah, thanks to these bastards, he knew what death felt like. 

_ What’s one more?  _ he wondered recklessly as he leapt a gap between two birch trees. He barely caught on the smooth bark, and almost went pitching down into another creek below. It was too far to jump across, so he climbed up until the branches were so thin they snapped under his weight. He grabbed the uppermost branch and leaned, letting the tree bend under his weight. 

For a moment he was sure he’d miscalculated, that he’d picked one too thick and he’d stop right over the creek with nowhere to go, hanging there like a red and white christmas ornament. 

His feet caught in the branches of an oak across the creek. He let out a sigh of relief, hugging the trunk. “Good old oak,” he murmured. 

Tommy’s hands shook badly, and when he tried he could barely curl them. The hunters arrived at the bank of the creek and drew up short. 

“It’s too far to jump,” one of them said, eyes scanning along the bank. Tommy let out a tiny whimper and pressed himself out of sight. “Split up. You two go downstream, we’ll go upstream.” 

He didn’t let himself breathe until they’d disappeared from sigh entirely. Then he discovered that he could barely make himself move. 

“Oh my god,” he whimpered, pressing his face into rough bark. “Oh my god, I’m alive…” 

“Tommy.” 

He flinched so hard, he slipped off his perch. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up, and he found himself staring into green eyes. Dream stared back, face completely exposed and worry evident in his eyes. 

“What are you - are you just popping out of the woodwork?” he spluttered once he found his voice. “First Wilbur and now you - what is this, a convention? I thought I had the forest all to myself but no, it had to be crowded up by the likes of you.” 

“Wilbur?” Dream furrowed a brow. “They got him, didn’t they.” 

For once, Tommy couldn’t find his voice. He swallowed and nodded. Dream sighed and rested back on his heels, annoyingly nimble on a branch so thin. Worn iron armor sat on his shoulders, a stone axe strapped to his back. 

“They say you fought back,” Tommy said, fingering his own weapon. If he told himself two weeks ago that he’d be in this situation, he would’ve laughed in his own face. But here he was, sharing a bone-weary look with someone who’d never shown his face before now. “Where’s your mask?” 

“Lost it when they killed me.” Dream scratched uncomfortably at his stubble. Tommy wished he could grow stubble. “What happened to the others?” 

“Tubbo escaped.” 

Obvious tension drained from Dream’s shoulders at that. 

“Gogy killed himself to get back to Origin before they could hunt him, I dunno if it worked. You were unconscious the whole time, but they were waitin’ for us there. It’s just a spawn trap.” 

“What about Sap and Drista?” 

“Sap they hunted, but he took ‘em on three vee one and they brought him in - ended up helping me get Tubbo out. The hunters didn’t like that - they killed him again and hunted me out here. But get this, Dream - there’s more hunters coming, like way more. There were ten that raided the castle, but when they chased me out there were like, ten more! There this new team, this crazy woman leads them - ”

“Tommy!” Dream interrupted his rambling, and Prime, his angry voice was a billion times more terrifying now that Tommy had to look him in the eye. “What about Drista?” 

Tommy nervously glanced across the creek, not trusting the hunters not to return. “They didn’t get her. I don’t know, but Tubbo said he saw her hiding when they left the castle and you know he and Wil were the last ones out so she’s safe.” 

Dream deflated with a sigh of relief. His eyes caught on Tommy’s hands wrapped in bloody rags and he squinted. 

“I’m fine,” he hurriedly assured, hiding them behind his back. “Nothing to really do about it, I’m just not getting back in the trees for a while. You really should’ve seen me, unless you were already watching like the freaky cryptid you are, who am I kidding you definitely were, are you proud of that big man shit I pull - ”   
Strong arms wrapped around him. Tommy squeaked in surprise, then realized that Dream wasn’t trying to throw him out of the tree. 

“Is this a hug?” he asked incredulously. 

“Yep.” 

“Oh.” It was incredibly difficult to do perched so precariously, but Tommy managed to return the hug. It felt nice, especially since all the contact he’d had in the last week had been mostly violent or fearful. 

“I’m going to protect you, Tommy,” Dream said in that matter-of-fact tone he always used. “You and everyone else. I promise.” 

“Sounds good, Big D.” 

He could  _ feel  _ the eyeroll, even if Dream’s face was perfectly straight when he pulled away. “I told you not to call me that.” 

“Of course, of course.” Tommy smirked.  _ “Of course.” _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this past midnight with my computer at 2% this is a cry for help 
> 
> sorry for the short chapter bois but I wrote this entire thing in one sitting because my conscious never lets me leave a concept half-done when it knows where it wants to go and if I don't post it the same day I start it my brain goes apeshit 
> 
> I love you pogchamps! Drink water, don't forget to eat and take your meds if you need them, and make sure to take a break from the internet at least once a day so you have time to make that headspace your own and not that of the world clamoring for attention!


	10. Feeling Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author realizes they're a little more similar than they thought

Tommy half expected Dream to have some crazy hideout that he’d assembled like a god. Maybe not an intricate treehouse, but at least something fortified and intimidating-looking, right? The last thing he expected was to be led to a literal _hole in the ground_. Tommy kept checking over his shoulder as Dream led him further and further into the cave system, hating the way the stone pressed at him on both sides. He wasn’t meant to be a mole, he was meant to run around in open fields, annoying people. 

“Nice place you got here,” he chuckled nervously. He banged his head on the roof of the tunnel for the umpteenth time and swore profusely. “You couldn’t have picked somewhere, eh, taller? Or with more light?” 

Dream didn’t respond, occupied with filling in the tunnel behind them. Which didn’t help Tommy’s claustrophobia _at all,_ but he trusted Dream. Dream wouldn’t let him get hurt. His foot landed in something wet and he swore again, scrambling backwards until he hit a body. 

“It’s water,” Dream said, pushing him upright and squeezing past him. His hood was up, hiding his face from what little light Tommy could make out. “This tunnel was carved out by the stream until it hit a limestone deposit and rerouted.” 

“Fancy words,” Tommy grumbled, rubbing his forehead. “Uggggh, my head is not happy with my right now.” 

He could hear the shit-eating grin in Dream’s voice. “Have you tried being shorter?” 

“Yeah, like I have a choice in the matter, dumbass."

"Just crouch.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Tommy braced one hand against the wall as they slodged through the stream. There were probably tons of cave goop and freaky creatures collecting on his sneakers as they went, but he was past the point of caring. His hands were throbbing nearly as bad as his head, and all the banging and scraping had awoken the dull thud he’d been pushing aside. 

They fell back into silence, all his energy focused into not tripping. After what felt like a billion years, Dream tapped his shoulder and indicated to clamber out of the stream into a tunnel on their left. After scrambling up a slick bank, Tommy tumbled onto a flat space and flailed upright. His hand banged against a crafting table, and a moment later there was the unmistakable sound of a torch striking. 

Bright light filled his vision, and suddenly the only thing he could understand was a high ringing in his ears and hammering in his skull. He collapsed against the wall, hands scraping against rock until he landed on a bed. 

“Woah! Tommy.” Someone steadied him until his vision cleared. He groaned and winced away from the light from the torch, shoving down a wave of nausea. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

“I dunno, I just kinda fell over there,” he muttered, leaning over when he felt his empty stomach rebel. Dream supported him until his dry heaving settled. “Urgghhhh… damnit, this fucking sucks.” 

“It sounds like you have a concussion. Can you focus on anything right now?” 

Tommy squinted at Dream, then reached out and poked his face. Dream sputtered and swatted his hand away, presumably glaring. “I dunno man, your face is kinda a blur right now. I mean your shitty lighting isn’t helping anything, I should file a complaint with HR. This little base of yours is a massive fire hazard. Does it even have an escape route?” 

“It has three. Did you hit your head in the trees or what?” He pulled away, and there was the sound of a chest opening. 

“Not really,” Tommy grumbled, absently rubbing his hands. He hissed and winced away. “Did get a bit roughed up at camp, tho. Bastard sons of a bitch.” 

A pink potion bottle was waved in front of his face. “Here. Healing. It should heal your hands and help the concussion.” 

Tommy fumbled for it, thankful that the cork had already been removed. “Where the fuck did you get this??” 

“One of the hunters I killed had it on them. Now drink it before I feed it to you like a little baby.” 

Tommy threw back that potion so hard he nearly passed out again, chugging half of it like a big man. Then he glared at Dream and shoved it back, unwrapping the bandages on his hands as his skin knit itself back together. “It’s OP, boss man. Op.” 

“Whatever that means.” Dream secured the bottle to his belt. “So here’s my dilemma. I’m not gonna be able to hide here forever. It’s only a matter of a day, maybe _hours_ now that there’s a fresh hunter party out there, before they track me here and we have to move again.” 

“Well what happened to the first hunters? There were like, six of them, if I remember correctly, which I always do. Did you kill them all?” 

“I did.” 

Tommy caught a glimpse of Dream’s face as he turned away, one hand resting on his sword. It was cold. “...Damn.” 

“I was buying myself time,” Dream said, shrugging. “Most of them got sent back to Origin. I thought I’d get two days, maybe three to come up with a plan, but this new party screws that up. I can’t take out ten, not when they’re all after me and you. And you being here increases the chances of getting caught…” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “And by the time I kill them - ”

“ _We_ kill them.” 

“... _We_ kill them, the other hunters will have regrouped. And who knows who else would’ve died by then. It’s just a cycle, a losing battle. So…” Dream’s gaze trailed off, and he squinted at the wall. Tommy wondered if that was what he always looked like behind the mask - he was so _expressive,_ really, the whole world was missing out. 

“So we don’t kill ‘em,” Tommy shrugged. “Actually, wait, that’s pretty stupid, nevermi - ”

“No, go on.” Dream tilted his head. 

Tommy blinked and narrowed his eyes. 

“What? You and I, we’re a team now. So, if we _didn’t_ kill them…” 

“We just trap them,” Tommy finished. “Like in a giant hole or some shit, except they’d need guards, and we just have the two of us and we have places to be so, so, like a giant hole, guards they can’t get through, somewhere where no one can find them, like a, a - ”

“A mob spawner,” Dream finished with a grin. 

“A mob spawner! Just what I was about to say. So where do we find one of those?” 

Dream tapped one hand against the wall. “Caves. Deep, _deep_ in caves.” 

Tommy blinked, and suddenly his plan was looking a _lot_ less brilliant. “So like, way down deep. Where all the monsters are. And the lava. And random drops. And the dark. Where there’s nowhere to run if we get cornered? _Those_ caves?” 

Dream quirked a brow. “We’re going to need a lot of pickaxes.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is Friday my dudes *throws head back and screams*


	11. dream of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together* are you fine folks ready for LORE?  
> In which we get to know Edward (may he ever rest in peace), Drista graduates to fellow (much much younger) warrior, Techno exposition dumps, and Phil's "I do not give a flying f*ck anymore" levels reach new heights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this fic focusing on Drista, who only ever got like two hours of fame, yet in that time bodily threatened her brother's eyes with a fork, broke half the rules on his server, burned down someone's house, built her name in unbreakable material that still stands to this day, and dug a giant hole under a city for no reason other than inconvenience. Making her the kickass protagonist of this fic is the least i can do for a fellow chaos gal just trying to make it through life

“Where’s Phil?” Tubbo asked. Drista and Techno had barely gotten through the door, sun long since set. All the furniture in the house had been displaced and reformed into a massive pillow fort in the living room. Techno moaned when he realized the kitchen table was a part of that, and now there was nowhere to set down his gear to clean later. 

Drista, completely ignoring his fine-tuned system, dropped her shield and weapons onto the floor and practically fell through the opening of the fort. Tubbo promptly sat on top of her and she grunted, bruises all along her torso protesting. “I dunno, Tubs. Where is Phil?” 

“Recon,” Techno said, repeating the same answer of the last three days. 

She rolled her eyes. Long fingers tangled in her birds’ nest of a head, and she realized that Edward was sitting cross legged in the fort. 

“Only you would become playmates with an Enderman, Tubbo.” 

“He’s funny,” Tubbo laughed, flopping on top of her to help comb through her hair. “Ugh, why do you smell?” 

“Ask Techno.” 

“She fell in the pigsty at the village,” Techno replied with far too much glee, and the quiet _shiiiiiiing_ of a whetstone. “And then got mugged by my brethren.” 

“That would explain the chicken bone,” Tubbo remarked crudely, wrinkling his nose as he picked gunk away. Edward was cheerfully eating whatever crap he found, and Drista had never felt more horribly like a monkey in a zoo. 

“I’m glad I’m sufficient entertainment for your abusive whims,” she grumbled. “You’re having way too much fun with this.” 

“Consider it rent.” _Shiiiiiiing._

“But seriously, where is Phil?” 

He paused and grunted deep in his throat, seeming to have an entire conversation with himself. Then he sighed and resumed sharpening his axe. “I suppose it doesn’t matter much anymore. He knows where the hunt is stationed, since he got the child there. But he can fly, so his trip takes two days, what would take us two weeks. Ever heard of the nether?” 

Tubbo’s hands stilled, and he sat up so quickly the air was knocked out of Drista. “Isn’t that the realm of fire? Like where there are screaming ghosts that shoot fire at you, or, or giant slimes made of lava? And the sun doesn’t rise and there’s no sky because it’s a giant cave and you could keep walking forever and ever and ever until you’re eaten or fall in lava?” 

Edward garbled his disgust. Drista reached up and patted his bony, ashy knee, thankful that there was one other voice of reason in this house. 

“That’s the one,” Techno said. “One of the funny things about it is it shortens travel. If you know how to navigate it, you could set up portals that make a two week trip take a day at most. And that…” he drew the whetstone across steel with one final, hair-raising _sshhhhhhhhhink_. “Is what Phil’s doin’.” 

Tubbo’s voice shook. “Are we going there?”

“Nah. Not you, at least. You’re gonna stay in the village with Sally until we come back for you. My student, though, better start cleanin’ herself up so she’ll get enough rest for the trip.” 

Drista cussed him out into the carpet. Once she ran out of breath, she heaved herself upright and began the long process of stripping out of her armor and cleaning the grime off. It was quiet for a long while, and the steady crackle of the fireplace kept lulling her eyelids closed. The third time she drifted off, she was awoken by a boot in her side. 

“Fuck you,” she blurted, jerking upright and wiping her eyes. 

“I got this,” Techno said, taking her armor. “Go clean up and go to sleep.” 

“Imna Tubbo… Tubbo needs… he needs to go to bed.” 

“He’s already out cold.” 

She glanced into the pillow fort. Tubbo was fast asleep with a blanket pulled tight around his shoulders, head pillowed in Edward’s lap. The Enderman watched her passively, one hand resting on his shoulder as the other combed through his hair. It put her at ease, and she let Techno take her gear and help her to her feet. She’d just washed her face in the sink and made for the stairs, trying to remember if she had any clean tunics left, when the front door opened. 

“Augh, the cold, make it go away,” Techno grumbled, barely acknowledging the man who’d just come through. “Oh, why did I ever move to a snow biome, the property value isn’t worth it.” 

“It is cold, innit,” Phil agreed, shaking a blizzard’s worth of snow from his wings. “Hey Techno. Drista. Is that a pillow fort?” 

“We left Tubbo and Edward unsupervised,” Drista ground out after a moment. “I… perfect timing, Phil. Portals?” 

“Yeh. Portals.” 

Her skin itched. While one part of her wanted nothing more than to sleep and let her aching muscles rest, the other part was wide awake and thinking of how _close_ she was. A day away from her brother? “So. Let’s go. I’m awake now, I just need to change. And we can drop Tubbo off, and…” 

“Let’s get an hour or two of shuteye before we go back to the nether,” Phil said, wiping soot from his face. The skin on his hands was red and blistering, and some of his feathers were singed. He dropped his inventory to the ground and went to the cupboard she’d not managed to raid yet, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Then I’ll give you all the rundown and we can set off.” 

Drista shook herself and ran upstairs, grabbing her last clean tunic and changing into it. This one wasn’t lined with fur, though it had a hood, and she suspected that it would fare much better in a hellscape than the training clothes she’d been wearing through at an alarming rate. Techno and Phil ignored her as she collected her gear and checked her inventory, packing everything she’d need. A few minutes later, her inventory was sat at the door next to Phil’s, trident propped next to it and her boots. Then she reached over and snagged the rest of the whiskey they’d been working through. Phil let out a noise of protest, but she’d crawled into the blanket fort before he could reclaim it. 

She found a stray blanket and wrapped it around herself, curling up next to Edward. Sleep didn’t come, however, and she spent the next few hours listening to Phil and Techno converse quietly about supplies and travel times. 

It felt like she’d arrived at Techno’s house months ago, and that could probably be attributed to the fact that she couldn’t remember how many days she’d been here. Most of them blurred together, the first couple of them marked only with getting her trident and armor. All the rest had been non stop fighting, drilling, repeating until she could parry, block, and strike in her sleep. Techno never came from the same direction twice, never gave an indication… and she sensed that he’d stopped going easy on her, since the ass-kickings never stopped. She never got the drop on him after that incident at the stream. 

_He’s better than Dream. He’s better than the bastards who got Dream. And they only got the drop on Dream, that’s why they got him. His guard was down and they stormed in and he was worried and that distracted him…_

Edward rested a hand on her head, and she scrubbed away tears. She was good, right? She’d be good enough to help. She wouldn’t be a liability like last time. 

_Besides, Tubbo’s safe,_ the logical part of her whispered. _The others will be fighting._

_If they’re not dead._

Drista sat up abruptly, startling the Enderman into teleporting away. When she crawled out of the tent, Edward had disappeared and Phil and Techno were staring at her. 

“Let’s go,” she said curtly, snatching an extra gapple from Techno’s chest to munch on. It was still pitch black outside, wind battering against the shutters, but she ignored it as she put her armor on. The other two were moving immediately, and she got the sense that they’d been waiting on her. She wished they hadn’t. She wasn’t the one leading the mission, she shouldn’t have to call the shots - 

Drista nearly dropped her inventory as realization struck. She technically _was_ leading this mission. She’d - she’d been the one to recruit them in the first place. And yeah, they’d agreed because she was Dream’s sister and they owed it to him, but… 

She shook her head and secured her bag around her hip. Then she crawled back into the fort and gently shook Tubbo awake, wincing when he groaned and kicked her away. 

“Tubbo, buddy, we’re leaving now,” she said. “You’re going to go spend the night with Sally, remember?” 

He pulled the blanket over his head. She sighed and awkwardly scooped him into her arms. He was groggy as she bundled him up. Techno came downstairs in full gear and cloak, his trademark boar skull mask secured over his face. Instead of tusks on the mask, his own tusks poked up. 

_Hybrids are weird_. 

The other hybrid in question swept up from the basement in a flurry of feathers and netherite. Drista threw her cloak on and secured her trident on her back, then picked Tubbo up. The kid buried his face in her shoulder and whined when Phil opened the door and bitter cold swept in. 

No words were exchanged on the walk to the village. Sally was solemn when she opened the door in the middle of the night to three hooded figures in full enchanted gear. Drista stepped in and placed Tubbo on her couch, wrapping him in a blanket. His hand caught hers as she pulled away. 

“Are you coming back, Dri?” 

She hesitated, hand drifting along her trident. “I hope so, Tubs. And when I do, I’ll have Tommy and Wil and Gogy and Sap and Dream with me, and we’ll all hang out and annoy Techno together, and you can show them all the games you and Edward made up.” 

“I like Edward,” he mused sleepily. “Just come back.” 

“I will.” She pushed her mask aside to kiss the top of his head and turned away, pulling her hood up. Sally snagged her in a hug before she could make it out the door, and Drista found herself caught in a different kind of trap. 

She hadn’t had a hug like this since… longer than she could remember. Longer than when it had just been her and Dream, Dream competing in MCC and Manhunts to earn their way to security. 

“You stay safe, love,” Sally said, finally releasing her. “And take care.” 

Drista nodded, unable to reply through the lump in her throat. Then she was back out in the snowstorm, trudging through the dark with Techno on one side and Phil flanking her on the other. She trusted they knew where they were going, and not just leading her to an untimely death. 

They must’ve gone over a mile by the time Phil pointed far ahead. A faint purple glow pierced through the snow, and as they drew closer she realized it was coming from a solid black arch standing in the middle of a field. In the cup of the arch, a dark sheen swirled. Its hum filled the back of her head, beckoning her forward. The snow around it glowed purple. 

“This is a portal to the nether?” she asked, running a hand over the smooth obsidian frame. Techno hummed and double-checked his inventory before stepping into it. The bubble-like film wavered and hissed, and suddenly he was gone. 

Drista stumbled backwards, and Phil cupped a wing behind her to keep her from falling into a snowdrift. “What - that’s - that is so wrong in so many ways!” 

“Everyone always has an adverse reaction at first,” he shrugged. “It should be safe on the other side. Techno’ll take care of any immediate danger.” 

She double checked her own inventory. _Gapples, pearls, pots… healing, speed, strength, a regen… hope I don’t have to use that. Arrows. Shield. A sword. Trident. Splash harming._ A dark look came over her face as she fingered that bottle. _Mutton, bread. Gold? Clutch gear. Water._ She checked over her armor again, made sure it was placed so she could shed layers unhindered. _Spawn… Origin. No enchantments to set at Techno’s. Don’t die._

She took a deep breath and stepped through the portal. 

Phil’s face wavered until it warped away completely, replaced with Techno’s. She stumbled out of the film and into the exact opposite of the tundra she’d just left. Overwhelming heat drove her to her knees and she struggled out of her cloak, dropping it on the ground next to her. The white wool lining the cloak blackened on contact with the stone. 

“Deep breaths,” Techno reminded her, sounding perfectly at ease as she fought back the urge to pass out. Phil emerged behind her and quickly shed his own cloak, wings spreading to shade her from the worst of the heat. “You get used to it.” 

“This _sucks,”_ she grunted, taking a swig of water. “A second ago I was freezing my _ass_ off.” 

“Yeah, coming here from the tundra’s a bit jarring,” Phil agreed, helping her to her feet. Drista steadied herself and took stock. 

“Ah, home sweet home,” Techno sighed happily, hands on his hips as he surveyed the hellscape they’d stepped into. His own cloak was still firmly secured around his shoulders, and he looked ready to go take a dip in a nearby pool of lava. You know, as one does.

If Dream was at home in the trees, Techno was at home in the nether. Honestly… Drista wasn’t sure why she expected anything less. 

~~~~ 

The trip was surprisingly uneventful after the first couple of mob incidents. Mostly it was just endless walking along the path Phil had marked, punctuated by discomfort or the occasional brush with lava. It was the world’s worst hiking trip, and Drista wasn’t sensing any brownie points on the horizon. 

They barely took breaks. Even if there was a place to safely stop, there wasn’t time to. The odds against Dream were stacked high, and if they didn’t get there in time, would likely overwhelm him. So they kept marching. Occasionally Drista would ask a question and Phil would answer, or Techno would stop to exchange grunts with a piglin, but most of the trip was filled with silence. 

Techno broke it, however, as they were navigating a thin bridge over a lake of lava. (It bubbled far below, blasting heat at them like a commercial oven, and Drista could already feel her skin blistering. Phil had forgone the bridge entirely, coasting on updrafts as Techno and Drista pointedly did not look down.) 

“Uh, look, Drista,” he started awkwardly, and there was never a good conversation coming when he used his _I’m dealing with emotions and I don’t like it_ voice. “I don’t want you to think that this trip means you’re anywhere as good as me, ‘kay?” 

She stopped and stared at him incredulously. “Really? Now you think is a good time to bring that up?” 

“Uhhhkay that came out wrong. What I mean is, what I’m trying to say is, you’re not as bad as you think you are.” 

“That is, like, the exact opposite of what you said two seconds ago?!”

“Look, I’m bad at words, okay? I’d rather stab. That feels like a healthier emotional outlet anyways. But, okay, look. This trip doesn’t mean you can go out into a battlefield and expect to come out without losing a limb or losing a life. Battle’s messy like that. Even I have to think about that. But this is a skirmish! An important one, and it’s important to you, and that’s why you’re fighting. But even then I wouldn’t let you fight in it unless you were semi-decent.” 

She threw her hands up, dangerously unbalancing herself for a moment. “I fail to see the point.” 

“You’re good, Drista, real good, even better now that you’ve had some more advanced training. Obviously it won’t make up for years of experience, but you grew up around fighters and had a really solid foundation already. It’s literally the only reason I decided to teach you.” It was difficult to meet his eyes under his mask, but she could sense him avoiding eye contact. Not that it was easy to make eye contact with her behind her own mask. Up ahead, Phil was hovering, clearly impatient to what was taking them so long. 

She tilted her head. “Are you actually… complimenting me?” 

“Nope. It’s just honest feedback.”

“No, no, I’m actually sensing some genuine affection under that gruff exterior of yours - “ 

“Stop it.” He turned away, shoulders hunched. She fell back from her teasing and wiped away sweat. 

“Why do you care?” Drista asked. “It’s because you owe something to my brother, isn’t it? I’ll bet it is. What is it?” 

“It’s none of your business, child,” he huffed, starting along the bridge again. She stuck doggedly on his heels, almost stepping on his cape. 

“I’m not gonna stop pestering you.” 

“And I might just throw you into the lava.” 

“But then you would owe my brother even _more._ So tell me, and I’ll never speak a word of it to anyone. I swear on - I swear on my life.” 

He inhaled sharply and whirled. “Don’t do that.” 

“What, swear? Shit, fu - “ 

“On your _life._ ” 

They’d stopped again. She shifted uncomfortably and wished she wasn’t positioned right over some very deadly melted rock with a mad blood god. “Why?” 

“Because you don’t know how many you get,” he ground out. “It used to be three, three per person, but then there were accidents - kids, people on their first or second life, they didn’t - they didn’t come back. And some people died four or five or even seven times and still respawned.” 

Pieces clicked together. “Technoblade never dies.” 

He stood very still, and for a moment he looked as if he could remain there forever, molding into the nether until he was nothing more than a forgotten statue.

“What I said wasn’t completely true,” he said after a moment. “You can… you can know how many lives you have. But you don’t know until you’re in your last life. You just _feel_ it, your… mortality. But if you were only ever given one, then that’s all you know, and if you see the people around you dying and coming back, you get reckless. And you die. And you’re gone for good.” 

He stared down into the lava, tusks gleaming orange. An entire minute passed before she realized he wanted this conversation to be over, but she couldn’t just let it stop there. “And you’re on your last life?” 

“My only one.” 

“... rough profession to be in then.” 

“I owe your brother my life.” 

“The duel?” 

“Yep.” 

“How did he know?” 

“I… don’t know. Neither did I, I don’t think, until the axe came down and I didn’t get my shield up in time. Rookie mistake.” 

Even though she was anything but cold, she hugged her arms around herself. “He was always good at pulling his punches.” 

“Are you two nimrods coming or not??” Phil was all the way at the end of the bridge, repeatedly stabbing a magma cube that was pestering him. He kept drop-kicking the little ones breaking off it into the lava, but it was only buying him so much time. “We don’t have all day!” 

“Good talk,” Techno said stiffly, and this time Drista didn’t stop him from retreating. She shook away the haze of heat and started after him. 

A high pitched whine pierced the air. Techno whirled towards it, Drista a second late, just in time to see a ball of fire bearing down on her. 

“Get down,” Techno ordered, but she was already dropping, feeling the hair on the back of her neck burning as it passed over her. Her hand slipped over the edge and suddenly she was on her stomach, staring down at the lake of fire. 

“Holy crud,” she gasped, brimstone scraping the back of her throat. Drista rolled upright and lifted her shield off her back in one fluid motion, just in time to block another fireball. The impact sent her reeling, and she decided that a thin line of netherrack was not ideal for this kind of battle. She and Techno started running, and she took the chance to get a read on their attacker. 

It was _massive,_ whatever it was, and looked like a giant balloon. In the center of it was a gaping mouth filled with sharp teeth, and two eyes streaming something crystalline. It let out another wail and drifted closer, a hissing sound building in its throat. Drista’s leg suddenly ached. 

“I hate ghasts,” Techno grumbled, reaching the end of the bridge and jumping the rest of the way down, gracefully rolling to soften the impact. Drista flinched and stumbled to a stop. “What are you doing?? Come on!” 

The ghast sent another fireball her way, and there was no room to duck or take a hit on her shield. Her fingers flew to her bag and she snatched up a smooth sphere, muscle memory taking over as she braced for impact - 

She fell to the ground next to Techno amidst a shower of purple, rolling to her feet with a groan. The bank of the lava lake was tucked under an overhang that continued deeper into a cave, so the three of them simply moved back out of Ghast range. A small magma cube gnawed at her boot, its saliva threatening to dissolve the plating on it. She sent it flying into the lake. 

“Okay, don’t see a reason to stick around here,” Phil said, straightening himself, then forged ahead into the cave. 

“Why didn’t you just jump?” Techno asked, wrinkling his nose at her. “No use wasting an ender pearl.” 

She huffed and shouldered her shield, letting her limp answer the question for her. It couldn’t make up its mind when it wanted to show up. It was probably psychosomatic, but in the time since the creeper accident she’d learned to ignore it and work around it. “Hey, do you two know any road trip songs?” 

“No, and please do not enlighten me - ”

“I know a couple,” Phil grinned. “What were you thinking?”

 _“Phiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil!”_

~~~~ 

Bonus: 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm beginning to tie up ideas that have been swirling around since I started this fic, which is just the most amazing feeling. Thank you to each any every one of my readers! It means the world to me to know ya'll are enjoying the work I put out. Don't forget to drink water, treat yourself, and give yourself time to breath! Sometimes no one will advocate for you except yourself, so this is permission to do just that. You and your mental health are worth every fight. I love you and pray you have a good day (or night). Until next chapter!
> 
> Also, according to AO3 statistics, only a small percentage of my readers comment, so if y - *gets shanked*


	12. Underground/Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream: *gets stabbed*  
> Dream:  
> Dream: honestly this is the least of my concerns right now

For all his bluster, Tommy was quiet as he matched pace with Dream. They’d split the armor that Dream had looted, and the chestplate he was wearing now was too big for him. The pauldrons kept slipping down his arm despite the string they’d used to secure them. 

(“You’re so twiggy,” Dream had remarked when they geared up, nearly earning a fist to the face for his ribbing. “If you were any paler you could probably make friends with a skeleton and it wouldn’t tell the difference.”)

“How long do you reckon until we run across one of these spawners?” Tommy asked, slashing through a spiderweb and stabbing the angry spider that came along with it. “‘Cause we’ve been wandering nearly all night.”

“There’s a pattern to them, if you’ve been to enough of them,” Dream said. “Depends on the biome, depends on the type of cave.” Behind them lay a plunging underground ravine, and now they were pushing up through a side tunnel. Tommy forged ahead with the torch, hissing at any mobs that came too close. Most of them hissed back before quickly being dispatched. “At the end of the day, it really comes down to luck.”

“Great, so we’re staking our survival on luck! It’s not like we also need to somehow lead the  _ hunters  _ down here.” 

“That part’ll be easy,” Dream said, before holding up a hand for Tommy to pause. “Hang on. I’ve been down here before.” 

(The day after he’d broken their compass tracking him, the day he’d felt the luxury to explore and collect resources, the day spent walking in the dark until his legs felt like jelly and he’d wanted to scream from loneliness.) 

They’d come to a crossroads, and to their right, a slight breeze made the torch shiver. They looked at each other. 

“That wasn’t open last time,” Dream said. Tommy swallowed and gripped his sword tighter. “Let’s move. And stay quiet.” 

Tommy, surprisingly, didn’t protest as they turned left and started jogging. Dream took the torch and began running his hands along the walls, searching for the nicks he’d left when exploring a few days ago. His hand found one, and he fell back to let Tommy take the lead. “Next crossroads go right. It goes down at first but it’s the way out.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Buying us time.” 

“They’re all the way down here? I thought we had time - ” 

Dream held a finger over his lips and tilted his head. From the direction they’d come sounded the faint click of armor. Tommy paled and fumbled when Dream passed the torch to him, and he hesitated. The elder poked him before running towards the approaching hunters, soundless against stone. He didn’t wait to see if Tommy followed his directions - though he prayed he would. That his trust in Dream hadn’t been shaken entirely after getting them into this situation in the first place. 

He didn’t let himself think about that as he reached the junction and turned right, back towards the ravine. Up ahead, someone shouted and they ran after him. 

_ Just like the manhunts.  _

Only these people would kill him, where George and Sap and Bad would only ever knock him down. He shoved that thought away and secured his inventory, making sure it wouldn’t throw his balance off as he came into the ravine and felt the heat of the lava below and ran out of ground and he  _ jumped -  _

There was a long moment where he hung in the air over certain death, and wondered why he ever gave this feeling up. 

Then his feet contacted the opposite side of the ravine and he pitched forwards, falling against the far wall with little grace. The hunters came out of the tunnel on the other side as he recovered, and he found himself ducking crossbow bolts as he darted along his ledge to safety. These guys were less shouty, firing with cold precision. 

_ It’s not a game to them.  _

Up ahead was another tunnel that he knew led up to the surface. Down below lay the crumbled remains of a land bridge, one he’d not intended to collapse the last time he was here, but it was working in his favor now. 

Crossbow bolts sprayed rock as he turned the corner into the tunnel. They shouted something about grappling lines and clutching, and he knew they’d be on his tail in a matter of minutes, but now he’s bought himself time. 

_ Scrap the mob spawner. We need to outlast these guys.  _ His breathing came even and quiet as he sprinted up the tunnels, trying to remember the way out. He’d have to rendezvous with Tommy where the cave came out on his end - 

_ Should we stay split up? Would that increase chances of survival? _

He’d need to be there. Tommy couldn’t take them alone, who knew if the kid could afford another life - 

**_I_ ** _ can’t -  _

And anyways, it would just be playing into the hunters hands all over again. He needed a plan, and quickly. 

It wasn’t until he could smell sunlight did he realize there was only silence behind him. When he came to a stop and held his breath, it could’ve been mistaken for a tomb. 

“Tommy- oh, they have a  _ compass, _ ” he realized with a jolt, and started running. 

Tommy would never admit it, but he’d panicked a little when Dream left him to run on his own. That felt like a running theme for the past couple of weeks - everyone seemed to enjoy leaving Tommy behind, assuming he could figure it out. Granted, it’s not like they were given much choice, but  _ still,  _ couldn’t they have the decency to  _ not die? _

(He still had no idea if Tubbo was alive. When Wilbur and Dream had asked, he couldn’t stand being the harbinger of uncertainty. Now he had to bear that fear alone and there was no one to blame for it but himself.) 

The idea of all of them dying cold, lonely deaths was now a familiar thought. It still hurt like a bitch but he’d come to terms with it - he had to, with no idea of who was alive and who wasn’t and even where anyone  _ was.  _ Their tight-knit family had been scattered like a flock of spooked birds and he was feeling increasingly like walking carrion as the minutes ticked on. 

“Turn right he said, turn right,” he muttered to himself. “He’s been here, looped around, why couldn’t he have the decency to share his dang thought process, huh? Just walking in circles. Damn it. We’re all going to  _ dieeeeee,  _ I am  _ deaaaaaaaad,  _ already feeling the cold sweet kiss of  _ deaaaaaath  _ in my _ beeeeeeeeeed… _ hm, that’s good.”  __

The torchlight flickered, which it wasn’t supposed to do this deep, so he followed his gut and started  _ running _ . 

(Irene, he was so sick of running.) 

At least he didn’t have to think if he was running, didn’t have to turn and fight if all he had to worry about was his legs moving and lungs getting enough air. If he strained his ears, he could make out the sounds of people following him, and Notch, they were  _ fast.  _

_ I was following the pack all swallowed in their coats -  _

He could smell fresh air piercing through the cave’s mustiness as he vaulted over a stalagmite and ducked under an overhang. Grime and soot wore between his fingers and left a gross taste in his mouth, and his calves and the soles of his feet ached something  _ fierce.  _ He dropped the torch when he caught a glimpse of sunlight far ahead. 

_ With scarves of red tied ‘round their throats… _

One of his flimsily secured pauldrons caught on a pinnacle of rock, yanking his progress back. He swore and tore away from it, feeling the piece of armor disappear. Warm red trickled from a gash in his arm. 

_ To keep their little heads, from falling in the snow -  _

__ He could see them now, led by that woman with the orange hair. Her gaze was more piercing than Dream’s could ever be, and he got that horrid sense a bird gets when watched by a cat. Inevitably finished. 

_ Then I turned ‘round and there you go!  _

He scrambled out of the small opening and into a small clearing, rolling to his feet as his head spun and he -

Ducked just in time to avoid a sword through his neck and - 

Dream’s feet hit the ground with a rhythmic  _ thud thud thud thud thud,  _ interrupted only by the occasional obstacle. His breaths came in short bursts, his chest tight, and he hated this so much. Hated the feeling of being too late. 

From far ahead came a familiar scream. 

_ They had the compass on Tommy, they went after him, they know I know they want both of us they’re going to kill him -  _

He didn’t care. In that moment, he didn’t give a single damn as he drew his stone axe and vaulted smoothly over a creek. They were so far upstream from where they’d met now, so far downstream from the depressing hole in the ground they’d camped in. 

The ground had been soaked with enough blood already, what was a little more? 

  
  


Tommy, through some miracle, managed to duck and scramble away from the hunter who’d been waiting for him at the cave entrance. They knew these woods, he realized. This was their hunting ground and they were  _ toying  _ with him. 

_ Where is Dream? _ he wondered frantically as a boot drove into his side.  _ Too slow, too slow, I was too slow -  _

He let out something between a snarl and a scream, oversized armor hindering his attempts to get off the ground. 

( _ “If you’re on the ground during a fight,  _ **_don’t be,”_ ** _ Sapnap had said during a sparring lesson years ago. “If you’re down, you’re pretty much dead, so get back up as soon as you can. Get your feet under you and get away.”)  _

__ Tommy was dead. He was so dead, and he wondered if that was why he was alone now, because if Dream came now he’d be killed too. He braced for pain and the agonizing darkness of respawn as the hunter’s axe blade came down - 

Only to be knocked aside by a stone one, accompanied by a green blur and snarl. 

He’d felt protectiveness and bloodlust before, but never at the same time. Never this strongly. He was acutely aware of every person in the clearing as he ducked and whirled and sank his axe into flesh, aware of how his blows weren’t as strong as they should be. Aware of how he felt like he was dancing on a knife’s edge, and he could tip into an abyss at any moment, never to return. 

Aware of all ten - (he landed a critical blow on one, trying to keep their attention away from Tommy while not straying too far) -  _ nine _ hunters trying to box them in, moving almost faster than he could track. 

Tommy scrambled forward and snatched up the fallen hunter’s sword and shield, kicking one in the back of the knee and bashing them over the head with his hilt when they went down. He paled, but pried their shield away and kicked it in Dream’s direction. 

Dream slammed his heel on the edge and caught it when it popped up, just in time to block an arrow to the head.  _ Eight.  _

Tommy was getting cornered by three of them and swearing hard, his shield beginning to give under blows. Dream found himself pushed to the edge of the clearing and redoubled his efforts and  _ knife -  _

__ He twisted the dagger out of the hunter’s hand and slammed his shield into their throat, dropped to one knee to avoid a sword and drive the dagger through a chink in another’s armor, lunged through the opening he’d just created in a handspring that wobbled more than he’d like - 

_ Why am I shaking stop shaking -  _

__ And used his own momentum to bring his axe down on the one bearing down on Tommy with a sickening crunch and splatter of gore. 

“Tommy,  _ run,”  _ he growled as he whirled, ignoring how hard the boy was trembling.  _ Five left?  _

__ A dull, wet sensation blossomed in his side, right beneath his lowermost rib, and he bit back a gasp.  _ Another  _ knife, he realized, that he’d noticed too late. 

That was fine. He could deal with that later. 

They were cornered against the side of the hill. Tommy panted as he hugged his shield closer, his shoulder brushing Dream’s. “Dream, what do we do? What do we do, Dream?” 

There was a lull in the fighting as the remaining five closed in on them, the one closest to them tipping her head. She looked so… normal, someone Dream would pass in the marketplace and not think twice about. Someone’s sister or mom. 

His head spun just thinking about it, and not from the blood loss. How messed up did you have to be to enjoy this profession?

“Anyone want dibs on the shouty one?” she asked, regarding Tommy like a product. “I know Ran and Naxca called Greenie.” 

“His name is Dream and you better use it,” Tommy spat, grip white-knuckled around the hilt of his sword. “Prick.” 

“Are you sure you want to come any closer?” Dream asked, holding up his axe warningly as they moved in. He noted with satisfaction that some of them hesitated. “A cornered animal is very dangerous, you know. Especially one that’s protecting its young.” 

_ “Oi!” _

“I think we’ll be fine,” one of the bearded guys smirked, and suddenly he was going for Tommy and Dream was moving before  he had time to think and his shield wasn’t strong enough to take the blow and he was behind the shield and this… was _ it.  _

__ _ This was what Techno felt like.  _

__

An ender pearl popped. A loud clang rang out through the clearing.

“I don’t remember getting an invitation to the party. Having all the fun without me?” 

Dream slowly lowered his shield. The hunters fell a step back. The figure behind a grimacing white mask twirled their trident and stepped forward, kicking aside the sword that had been moments away from shish-kebabing Dream. 

He had to double check he hadn’t actually died, because he was certain for a moment that that was  _ him  _ standing firm before the hunters. Then the figure pushed back their forest-green hood, revealing long blonde hair, and it clicked. 

_ “Drista?”  _ Tommy gaped. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she shrugged. “Got a bit sidetracked on the way here.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oHHHH we are SO CLOSE to wrapping this story up, we are almost at 60 pages total, which... is about how much I estimated this would end up as, honestly. I blacked out and when I woke up this chapter was finished, so hopefully it's not terrible XD 
> 
> You all take care of yourselves, remember that you deserve it and you are unconditionally _loved, _don't forget to step out for some fresh air and let your mind clear for a few minutes. It's gonna be okay, remember to eat and drink and take your meds if you have them! Tomorrow is a new day and you can make it yours.__
> 
> _  
> _Until next time loves!_  
> _


	13. Pumped Up Kicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author, rubbing their hands together as they write this chapter: time to finish checking off all those "main character criteria" boxes

_Five to… one, since Tommy’s Tommy and Dream’s not looking hot. Shit odds._ _  
_ She moved before the hunters did, vaulting on her trident at the last second and slamming into the closest one’s shield with her boots. He went down, meeting the unfriendly end of her dagger. She carried herself forward in a roll and onto her feet, only to bend backwards to avoid a swift axehead. 

_ Fix your stance, Drista.  _

She flipped off her mental voice (which sounded annoyingly like Techno) and instead of popping back up, rotated her hips to roundhouse one. There was a loud popping noise as her shin guard met bone. 

( _ “You’ve got to be prepared,” was the first thing Techno told her, not for the last time. “And before you go ‘eh sure I’ll be prepared,’ I mean it. You’re going to breath, eat, sleep ready for anything, got it? I’m not gonna warn you before I come at you. Might be at breakfast, might be when you’re chopping wood, might even be when you’re going to the bathroom.”  _

_ “Dude!”  _

_ “I’m just sayin’. You gotta learn to think clear under stress.” _

_ “Sounds like you’re just fostering paranoia.”  _

_ “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”  _

_ He kept good on his word. When she stumbled down the stairs that evening after a post-training catnap (during which she locked the door and windows, she wasn’t a fool), she was on the floor with a boot on her neck before she could register what was going on.  _

_ “Wear your armor,” was all he told her, before leaving her to nurse yet another bruising.  _

_ “Wear your armor,” he said when she was knocked off the roof into Carl’s pen, when he kicked her arm out from under her in the middle of a plank.  _

_ “Fix your stance,” he reminded when she’d been slammed into yet  _ another  _ spruce tree.  _

_ “Good, but stay aware of your surroundings,” he chuckled after a scuffle in the kitchen that had resulted in five broken eggs, a frying pan through the window, and Tubbo’s pancake stuck to the ceiling. “There was a perfectly good knife there I decided not to put through your ribs.”  _

_ “Sleep with one eye open,” he instructed as he handed her a healing potion in the middle of the night, in the snow, with only half her armor on and a broken wrist.  _

_ “You’re learning,” he grinned, after the third time she stopped a surprise attack in its tracks. She flipped him off as she shoved a wad of bread in her mouth, then stormed outside before he could make her do dishes.)  _

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two hunters go to finish off Dream and Tommy. It took Dream a fraction too long to register the threat, but Tommy stepped in and took the blow with his shield. It broke, so he tossed it aside and sent a punch at their face. Drista didn’t see what came next, distracted by the feint that turned towards her left knee. 

She grit her teeth and knocked it away. A blow hit her side, but the thin under armor lining her tunic kept it from doing more than heavy bruising. 

( _ That eventful day at the pigsty, he’d sent her into town to modify her armor. He’d wanted to break her into fighting in unfamiliar armor before the set was molded to her, and she’d been sitting uncomfortably defenseless in the smithy with her back to the wall, watching the iron golem pump air into the furnace. All the snow in a twenty foot radius was completely melted. Smelting netherite took an insane amount of heat, considering it was still hard as rock and all the lighter for it while in the nether.  _

_ Eventually it became too hot to breathe, and she was forced to abandon half her armor at the smithy and go to Sally’s. This would be the perfect time for Techno to ambush her, and she kept her eyes peeled for his shock of pink hair in her peripherals.  _

_ She hadn’t been paying attention to the three village men nearby, not until they suddenly started towards her and she realized they were armed. Kurtis was among them - he was the best fighter there, and he’d tag-teamed in more than one of Techno’s training sessions. He also fought dirtier than Techno, if that were even possible.  _

_ They probably weren’t coming over to talk tea-time, either. She had her sword out in a flash, just in time to dodge an uppercut and deflect a simultaneous strike at her knee. They came at her hard and fast, and her breath was harsh against her throat as she fought. She’d never fought this many opponents before. She had no protection, no backup, and no guarantee they wouldn’t kill her.  _

_ She was underprepared. They had her backed against a pigsty at the edge of the square in a matter of seconds, and one of her kicks went wide and she overbalanced backwards. Next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in hardened mud and shit, face to face with an angry boar.  _

_ It just so happened to be the boar that was getting butchered, after it killed one of the town’s guard dogs in a blind rage.  _

_ She scrambled to her hands and knees in an attempt to get away from it. Her foot slipped on ice and it’s singular tusk ripped into her left thigh, right where the creeper scar ached the most. A guttural scream ripped from her throat and she fell, blinded with pain. This was worse than the explosion that had wounded it. Much, much worse.  _

_“I yield,” she shrieked, stiff fingers trying to find her sword again before she got gored to death._ _“I yield, I yield, please!_ ** _Please!_** ” 

_ The boar squealed harshly, before there was the sound of a sword cutting air and a blade hitting flesh. The pig fell still. She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed, not reacting when whoever had killed it kneeled next to her. “It hurts,” she choked out, one hand darting down and meeting a swift flow of blood. “It hurts, it hurts so bad…” _

_ “I’m sorry,” Techno’s low monotone ground out. She stifled another scream, stayed as stiff as a board when arms lifted her out of the mud and over the side of the sty. If asked, no one would ever recall her clinging to Techno’s cloak as she shuddered. Sally would, however, recall stroking the girl’s hair as she suffered through stitches, the wound too wide to be fully closed with a potion.  _

_ “Are we… we’re good, right?” Techno’d asked on their way out the door, long after the sun had set and Drista could put weight on her leg without flinching.  _

_ Her only answer had been an impassive glance as she strapped her armor on.)  _

It still throbbed now, and she knew she was favoring it, but there was nothing to do about it except compensate and  _ not drop her guard.  _

She’d run over that encounter in the village a million times while lying awake, analyzing every twitch and adjustment of the foot, and now she wasn’t going to repeat her mistakes. 

And she wasn’t, not really. She felt like she was flying, one foot barely touching the ground before she was on the other one, spinning and ducking and generally just dancing around these hunters’ swift-but-blocky attacks. Yeah, they were fast, but they weren’t  _ Techno- _ level fast. If there weren’t two of them to focus on, she might even start thinking about what she wanted for dinner. 

Okay, that was hyperbolic, but she felt she had enough legroom to glance over and check on Tommy and Dream - just in time to see one of the previously unconscious hunters grab Tommy and slam his head into the side of the hill. 

“Tommy!” she yelled when he went limp. Dream was too far to help, and anyways he was rapidly paleing and taking too many glancing blows to be healthy. His shield was almost broken. She was also sure there was blood soaking the lower half of his hoodie, but she couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. 

A blow across her face left her ears ringing. She stumbled back, feeling hot blood running from her broken nose, and a boot planted in her gut, sending her to the ground. Even down she kicked out, catching one of her attacker’s legs with her heel and roundhousing into their knee with the other. The blow only rang out against armor, and her ankle was left throbbing. 

The words  _ one life, one life, one life  _ rang out in her ears, along with Techno’s warnings that she might not be good enough to save everyone. Because now all three of them were down, and she hadn’t seen Techno nor Phil since they’d split up at the portal. 

_ (More hunters at the base camp, they’d quickly realized. The fiasco in the woods was gathering attention, once word got out among the scumbags that “The Dream” was the one on the chopping block. Drista had snatched up a spare compass and fled from the melee, confident that Techno and Phil could free Sapnap and George and take out the competition without help.)  _

An arrow split the skull of one of the hunters standing over her, just as an axe crashed through another. The ground was soaked with blood and the dust of dead men. Several hadn’t despawned, their last lives taken. Phil’s silhouette cut through her hazy vision, and she fumbled upwards for his hand. He pulled her upright and she leaned over, trying to blink blood from her eyes. Her nose throbbed fiercely.

“You alright, mate?” he asked, gently touching her mask. “Your nose. You wanna reset that later or?” 

“Bo i’ now,” she muttered, slipping the mask up and grabbing his shoulder for support. Cartilage crunched as he reset her broken nose, and she groaned. “Danks.”

Techno had taken out the last of the hunters. Dream was somehow still standing, shaking from adrenaline as he surveyed the battlefield. 

“Drista,” he ground out when he lay eyes on her. “What the fuck - you could’ve been killed!” 

“... _ You _ coulda been kille’! Woulda been kille’! A dank you woul’ be bice.” 

He groaned and turned away, running a hand down his bare face. Drista glimpsed something metallic dug into his side and stared at it, open mouthed until he caught her gaze again. “What?” 

“You got knoifed,” she pointed out, vision beginning to swim a bit as the adrenaline faded. She’d killed people, honest-to-gods ended their lives. (She’d do it again to save them, but it was a very strange weight to bear.)

He glanced down at the dagger in his side and went deathly white before sinking to the ground. “Oh yeah. Forgot about that.” 

“For - forgot - ” 

“That’s mildly inconvenient,” Techno grumbled, and knelt next to Dream to inspect the damage. “It’s gonna need a regen if you don’t want to respawn. Fortunately, I have one right here.” He pulled one out of his bag and wiggled it teasingly. “But first, I just wanna say on record that I’ve fulfilled my favor  _ several _ times over, so this means you’ll be in debt to  _ me.”  _

Her brother grit his teeth. “Yes. Fine.” 

Drista sighed and made her way over to Tommy. A streak of blood trickled down from his forehead, but he moaned and shifted when she shook him. 

“You cab wake up bow,” she managed to get out, then wondered how badly she’d have to nag Phil for a healing potion, because she could not continue like this. “We all done.” 

“What in the fucking hell,” he groaned, rolling onto his back. “What the actual, living fuck.” 

“We alibe,” she snorted, then immediately regretted it. 

“You sound like shit.” 

She flipped him off. He returned the favor. 

“Is that everyone?” Phil asked, toeing one of the dead bodies with a grimace. “We’re gonna haveta set up pyres or something for these guys.” 

“Do they really deserve pyres?” Dream muttered darkly as he swirled the regen potion. Techno positioned himself to remove the dagger, pinning Dream to the ground with one elbow. Drista looked away when the screaming started, and tried to block out uncertain scrambling as Phil poured the regen down her brother’s throat. She’d had enough traumatic events for the day. He’d… he’d be fine. 

She focused on helping Tommy to his feet instead. The boy stared at the mess of the battlefield for a long time in disbelief, and she felt inclined to do the same. 

This nightmare was  _ over.  _

“Whadaya say boc?” she asked, going over and gently nudging Dream’s shoulder. She hated seeing him like this. He’d come in from patrol once or twice beat up, and she’d never forget all the times Hypixel kicked his ass, but this… well, she wouldn’t miss the sight. “Gonna libe?” 

“Can I have my mask back?” he groaned instead of answering. 

She tilted the enchanted ceramic up and made a show of wiping blood off her chin. “No.”

The look he sent her was akin to that of a kicked puppy. 

It was Tommy who pointed it out first. 

“What happened to that orange-haired chick? The one I thought was going to fry my ass, like, minutes ago?” 

“What?” Phil sent him a skeptical look. Techno shot to his feet and began patrolling the perimeter of the clearing. “She probably got killed in the fightin’, dude.” 

“I don’t remember her in it.” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck and winced, squinting against a headache. “And I guess I’d remember, she was pretty, well, her, like she was a fox and I was a chicken and let me just make it clear that I ain’t intimidated by no man, alright?” 

Tommy pointed it out first, but Drista spotted it first, a glint in the treeline. 

Like the tip of a crossbow. 

She was moving before it even fired, throwing herself over Dream because they weren’t allowed to take him  _ again  _ \- 

Something tore through her. 

All she knew was nothing. 

Tommy felt more than a little detached from reality as he watched Drista crumple like wet paper. 

She didn’t get up. An insane amount of blood was pooling on the ground under her, more than anyone could survive losing. 

Technoblade was off like a shot after the bowman - bow _ woman, _ who’d - who’d - 

“No,” Dream choked out, rolling onto his side and grabbing her. “No!” 

Her mask was still tipped up, and when Dream rolled her onto her back, she stared up at the sky with the same glassy eyes Tommy sometimes saw on dead livestock. 

_...killed her.  _

“Respawn, please,” Dream gasped, dragging himself onto his knees. He ignored how soaked he was with blood now, pulling her into his lap. Phil shook himself out of his shock and went over to help, but there wasn’t much he could do. 

Best he could figure, the bolt had found a lucky gap in her chestplate and gone all the way through. 

Tommy couldn’t feel his hands, the world was spinning, he wasn’t sure what way was up anymore. Dream’s frantic begging under his breath only served to make it feel more like a dream. 

“Please, respawn, please, please, don’t do this, don’t let this happen, please respawn, just this once, please, she didn’t do anything to deserve it, please, please…” 

Tommy’s knees hit the grass and he threw up. 

“Please don’t make me spend my last life alone…” 

Phil’s wings, which had been fluttering frantically, stilled at Dream’s whisper. 

“Regen?” Dream muttered brokenly, reaching for a thread of hope. 

“I don’t know if - ” Phil swallowed, hard. “I don’t know if regen will bring her back, mate.” 

He goes as still as stone, and his back is to Tommy, so Tommy can’t see if he’s crying or not. He’s just… silent. Techno returns then, covered in a bit more blood and holding an unloaded crossbow in one hand.

“I got her,” he said offhandedly, wiping blood off his face with his equally red sleeve. “No more crossbow or hunters - that’s definitely the last of th - ”

He broke off, staring at Dream hunched over Drista and Phil hunched over both of them and Tommy behind them both, all deathly pale and silent as the grave. It didn’t take a redstone engineer to read the situation. 

“Oh,” was all he said, the crossbow slipping from his fingers and thumping uselessly against the ground. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that the chapter titles have changed. That is because SOMEONE *glares in mirror* decided to clean up her act and actually name them after songs she listened to or thought of while writing the chapters, as any sane person doesohmygodpleaseiwantsleep
> 
> Love you guys, hang in there until next chapter :)


	14. Waiting Between Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of world mechanics here, a little bit of deus-ex-machina there... whoops, those measurements aren't right. Eh, I'm sure it'll be fine. Enjoy backstory, the beginnings of feral Dream and finally, finally some sweet George and Sapnap content

She was floating. 

All around her was just… void, stretching on endlessly. Stars dotted the sky around her, more numerous and outstanding than when she was standing feet on the ground. They were beautiful, pulling at her, begging to tell her their stories, but always too far to hear beyond a whisper. 

There were millions of them. She could spend an eternity here listening, telling her own story as well. 

Her - 

What was her story? 

How did she get here? 

She went to inhale, then realized she didn’t have lungs to draw air into. It didn’t feel wrong, but the instinct was there. She wanted to _breathe._ She wanted to _shout._

 _Hello?_ she cast out into the void, projecting as far as she could. It was nothing more than a whisper, lost among the billions of other souls. _HELLO!_

No response. 

Who _was_ she? 

_I’m not supposed to be here!_

She tried to inhale again, and this time there was a flutter of something. 

_“Helloooooooooooooooooooo?!”_

It echoed, much louder than the whispers, and she crowed in triumph. She was young, she was victorious, she was - 

_Drista._

_I’m Drista._

A glimpse of snowflakes dancing across a windowpane. Blood on snow. Blood on _white._ A shock of brown hair, a giggle, a curse - 

_“Drista, to get up.”_

_“Mmmmph.” She was so cold. The ground was hard, but it was always hard, so it wasn’t much of a bother. Dream poked her again, then rubbed her arms for good measure. It brought some blood flow back into her fingers and she began to wake up for real._

_“Come on, don’t you want breakfast?”_

_“Breakfast is Mage Fisa’s leftovers,” she grumbled, sitting up. Her hair had fallen out of its braid last night, and now it was nothing short of a disgusting nest on her head. Dream let out an exasperated sigh and turned her around._

_“Mage Fisa is a bit of a jerk, isn’t he,” he said, trying and failing to run his fingers through her hair. “Ugh, why won’t you let me cut this?”_

_“Because it’s my princess hair!” she shrieked, swatting him away._

_“You don’t even look like a princess. You look like a street rat. Now so still so I can at least_ try _to braid it.”_

_She humphed and sat down hard in his lap, letting her try to untangle her hair with his fingers. It was a long process, and she knew as the sun warmed the cobblestone of the fountain they’d slept next to, that they were definitely missing Mage Fisa’s free handouts._

_“I want to swim in the fountain,” she complained, reaching a hand out to splash at the water. Mud coated the bottom of it in a thick layer, and filmy bubbles floated on top, but it sounded pretty._

_“The guards don’t like it when people swim in the fountain,” he reminded her, finally getting her hair into workable chunks. He plaited it, picked the worst of the debris out of it, then twirled it into a bun. It was so full of dirt that it needed little encouragement to stay, but he still found a twig to use as a pin to hold it in place._

_“There,” he said proudly, letting her get up and feel his work. “Now that’s a princess bun if I ever saw one.”_

_“Perfect,” she sniffed. “Now all I need is a crown.”_

_“Of course, your highness. Now let’s see who we can steal breakfast from today.”_

She was abruptly snapped back into the pressing silence of the void, those glimpses slammed behind some massive door. 

_No, wait, those are me!_

“Bring them back!” Drista screamed, trying to will herself away from the spot she was drifting in. She found if she turned herself she could kind of float herself in one direction, but she had no control over her direction. Up or down was a distant memory. “Those are mine! I won’t stay here!” 

Something loomed behind her, and she whipped her head around. A being hovered there, absolutely _massive_. It was as black as the void, its figure distinguished only by where the stars were blotted out. Glowing purple eyes opened near the head of it, and she found herself frozen. 

_“Another shouty one,”_ it sighed tiredly. _“Please, if you could stay calm and wait, and accept this reality, I promise the process will be sped.”_

“What process?” she snapped. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” 

_“The system is falling apart,”_ it said with all the tiredness of an elementary school teacher. _“Souls that die are carried on to another world, but first they have to be cleansed of their memories of this one. But that process is too slow to keep up with all the souls being born now, causing backup. That tangle leaked over into the respawn system, and now more people are dying prematurely or not dying at all. Of course that means more work for us. Now the veil of memories of thinning, and people like you are coming in with too much retention - ”_

Blond hair. Laughing green eyes, the clashing of weapons, milkshakes after dark in a Hypixel lobby - 

_Drista didn’t like this apartment. It was too big and too small at the same time. Everywhere she looked there was another wall. There was nothing to even do! Dream had brought back a box of crayons and paper and told her to become an artist, but the crayons broke and she ended up eating half the paper out of boredom. She missed him. She wished he didn’t spend so much time fighting in those stupid games._

_She groaned and tumbled dramatically off the couch, staring at the front door. Dream always came back, but he’d been returning later and later, sometimes after she’d fallen asleep. He was supposed to be running around with her, or coming up with stupid games to annoy the guards near the gates of the upper city so they could break in!_

_Except now they were in the upper city, and the kid was left to cause mischief all on her own._

_Drista sat up abruptly and blew hair out of her face. She’d been trying to teach herself to braid, but it was only half successful. What if she didn’t wait for Dream to come back to her? What if she went and found him?_

_The door was locked, but she found a spatula and made it unlocked. Then she was outside the apartment, which was really just another corridor where she could see other apartments going in each direction. They also went up, ugly metal staircases leading to each building’s landing. After a moment of thought, she went inside and grabbed one of the crayons._

_Drista shut and locked the door behind her, but not before marking the white paint with a simple green smiley face. It wouldn’t do for her to get lost, anyways._

_Her heart was in her throat as she ran out of the complex, bare feet slapping against dirty concrete. She’d never run around alone before._

_She remembered the way she was supposed to go, the first time they’d been shown around the Mineplex grounds. She was just in the apartments - they were on one side of the island. The training grounds, or games (she couldn’t remember which, only that Dream was there) was on the other side._

_The people on this island made her nervous. They walked around in armor all the time, and as she ran past them they looked at her. Nobody used to look at a kid running around in Origin - they were just another kid. A few ever tried to stop her, but she just ran faster. She was good at that._

_After getting lost twice, she finally found the training rooms. They were behind big oak doors, and she could hear people yelling._

_It sounded fun. She threw her shoulder against one and pushed until it budged enough for her to slip through._

_The arena she stepped into was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It was a giant lake of water, and islands were all over the place. She could see people on the islands with swords and armor running around. They were fighting. She watched as one man with black hair and a headband jumped from a makeshift bridge to the middle island and knocked someone into the water. They fell for several seconds before a loud splash rang out._

_“Oh, cool,” she whispered, running to the edge of the walkway over the water. “I wanna do this.”_

_A figure in green caught her attention. “Dream! Hey, Dream!”_

_Dream shot up at the sound of her voice and whirled. “DRISTA?”_

_Someone came up behind him while he was distracted and kicked him in the back. With a yell he tumbled forwards into the water. She winced when he smacked into it, and a loud whistle blew. “Out!”_

_Oh. That wasn’t good. She spotted a flight of stairs leading out of the water and ran to it. She’d only made it a couple steps down before she felt a grown up grab her arm._

_“Let me go,” she growled, whipping her arm out of the referee’s hand and running the rest of the way down. Dream was swimming over, slowly. Even from here she could tell his armor was weighing him down._

_“Sorry,” she said, splashing down the steps to help him up. Dream ignored her as he sloshed up, and now he was standing over her with his arms crossed, water dripping angrily into his face._

_“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he snapped. “I thought I told you to stay in the apartment!”_

_“It’s boring! You’re never around anymore and there’s no one to bother and there’s not even anything to steal because it’s empty and all my crayons broke and I’m too old to play with crayons anyways, and I want to hang out with you!”_

_“We don’t steal anymore,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the steps. “And when I say you stay put, you stay put, remember? You just messed up my score! I was on a streak! Do you know how close I was to finally beating Sapnap?”_

_“I don’t even know what that means!”_

_“I don’t care!”_

_She froze. He’d stopped as well, their tug-o-war up the stairs at a standstill. Frustrated tears were threatening to fall down her face, but she didn’t let them. Crying was for sissies. “Well maybe I don’t care either.”_

_“Good.”_

_She sniffed loudly, grabbing his sleeve. “Please come back? Or just let me watch! I’ll be quiet!”_

_“You’re never quiet.”_

_“Dream?” The referee who’d tried to grab her was coming down the stairs now, and she tightened her grip when he tried to pull away. “This is your sister, if I’m not mistaken.”_

_“Yes,” Dream replied curtly. “I’m sorry she disturbed the game, she’s not supposed to be out of our quarters.”_

_“You live in unit 49-D, right? We can have someone take her back if you’d like.”_

_“That would be wonderful.” He finally managed to pry her fingers loose and scurried up the steps. When Drista tried to run after him, a different grown up grabbed her around the middle and lifted her off the ground._

_“No!” she screamed, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “No, Dream! Please! No! I don’t wanna go! Don’t let them take me, I don’t wanna go! Dream!_ **_Dream!_ ** _”_

_Despite her struggles, they still managed to get her outside the training grounds. The guard dropped her to the floor and she scrambled back towards the doors. She impacted the wood just as they slammed shut with a final groan._

_The last view she got was of Dream turning away._

“My brother,” she said, and blinked to realize that the deity had been reaching for her. “What are you doing?!” 

_“Wiping your memory manually,”_ it told her. _“Technically we’re not supposed to do that, but it will accelerate you into the next world in half the time.”_

“No!” 

She twisted away, surprised to find that she was propelled further away from it. It had a certain gravity. “What about my brother? I want to go back to him! How did I forget him?” 

_“Your brother?”_ It seemed to take a moment to recall, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if it whipped out a clipboard and reading glasses. _“Ah. Him. Yes, he’s passed through here more than his share of times. I’m sure he’ll be joining us permanently soon, I don’t think he has more than one left on the docket.”_

A chill passed through her. “I want to go back, I - I left him. Left them. I’m not done. What was I - how did I get here? I’m not done.” 

_“I’m pretty sure you’ve fulfilled your time.”_

“I’ll just keep screaming.” Now she could recall a battle, several faces. Technoblade, black wings, the determined set of Tommy’s jaw. “I’m not gonna stop, even if you wipe my memory. I’m only on my first life! Can’t you give me one more? We’re supposed to have _more!”_

It closed its eyes for a long moment. _“This would go much easier if you cooperate - ”_

“I will not!” 

_She remembered kicking that guard in the shins and running as fast as she could. He chased after her, but she always ran faster. Eventually she lost him. She lost him somewhere she’d never been before, somewhere outside of Mineplex, with sweeping ceilings and a bustling hall and people of all shapes and sizes._

_There were so many, and she was all alone. Here, no one noticed a small girl falling to her knees and crying just a little. Didn’t notice her curl up next to a massive column and wonder how she was going to get back, or wondering if she even wanted to get back._

_The kids with dirty faces and crooked smiles found her there. They offered her a hand, teased her hair into something more like a braid and showed her the best lookout spots in the entire city of Hypixel. They pick-pocketed and scammed and told vulgar jokes, and when they showed her home at the end of the day, promised that anyone with fingers as light as hers could hang out anytime._

She would be crying now, if she had tears, because she could feel something tightening where her chest was supposed to be. “I’ve only just begun. I’ve fought to keep everything and, and - you’ve seen those horrific things down there, right? Those people, those monsters? Who I fought, to keep my family safe and my brother safe and I - I remember now, I won. We won. I deserve to go back! Let me back!” 

It didn’t answer, only loomed. She flinched away and kept yelling, hoping something was getting through. “I spent hours, weeks training day and night! I gave everything that I had, you understand? _Everything!_ _Even_ my life, and I did that too, but they cheated. They cheated. I did not spend an, an entire lifetime scraping for something for myself, for us, for it to be stolen from me!” 

It had stopped advancing, so she stopped fleeing, doing her best to meet its unblinking purple gaze. “I don’t want that to be my legacy,” she whispered. “I don’t want to only be remembered as ‘Drista, the girl who died too young.’ To be known as “the failure.’ To be an example.” 

They drifted there for what felt like an eternity in silence. The sigh it let out was even more tired than the first. _“I will restore what has been taken. Nothing more, nothing less. You do with that what you will.”_

This time when it reached for her, she didn’t flinch away. 

* * *

Phil had just persuaded Dream away from Drista’s body when it crumbled to dust. Techno, who’d been in the middle of piling bodies for burning, dropped the one he’d been carrying. “What - ”

Dream scrambled to his feet, chest heaving, and stared where she’d just been seconds before. Then he whirled, grabbing Phil by the shoulders. “Origin. We need to get to Origin!” 

“That’s a two day’s ride north,” Tommy muttered. 

“We can make it less than that,” Techno glowered, lighting the makeshift pyre with flint and steel and turning his back on it. Unpleasant smells filled the clearing, soon to attract wild animals and mobs. “We got here by nether highway.” 

Somewhere in the direction Techno had originally come, a horse whinnied. Everyone whipped around with their weapons drawn, only for Sapnap and George to trot out of the trees. Sapnap was leading, wearing looted armor with a sword and quiver slung across his back. His gaze swept the situation, then landed on Dream. George emerged behind him riding a lithe bay, with two other horses in tow. 

“Techno and Phil just left us to clean up,” he complained, but tossed one of the horse’s leads to Techno without a word. “But we got a bunch of really good stuff. You need armor, Dream?”

“I could use some armor.” 

“I don’t think any of this will fit you, Tommy.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Where’s Drista?” Sapnap asked, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I remember seeing her.” 

George’s gaze automatically snapped to the pyre of bodies. Techno shook his head and readjusted his gear before mounting, and his shoulders slumped in relief. Dream didn’t answer, simply accepting the armor Sapnap handed him and struggling into it. His eyes were unfocused but sharp, gazing into space with unfamiliar intensity. 

“We’re going to Origin,” Tommy said, speaking up when no one else would. He accepted the second free horse and swung himself into the saddle, grimacing when it was a bit too small for him. Phil slung a bag across the haunches of Techno’s horse, and there was the familiar clink of armor inside. Tied to the other side of the bag was Drista’s inventory. “We’re gonna get Punz and Bad - gods, haven’t seen them in weeks, how are they George? - and Wilbur and... Drista. Hopefully.” 

“To be honest, things aren’t looking so good in Origin,” George said. “The hunters have us tagged, so their buddies can snag us right at the spawn gate and take us to one of their… prisons. They’ve got a whole operation going, this is big. Bigger than just a few jerks running around after their tails, at least.” 

“Good,” Dream growled, motioning for Sapnap to help him up. Sapnap pulled him onto his hunter with a grunt, and the horse shifted for a moment until it adjusted to the weight of two people. “We’ll shut this down once and for all.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Techno agreed, surveying the area one more time before turning and leading the way through the woods towards the nether portal. With a mighty burst Phil was airborne, flying ahead of them so he could open a portal at Origin without the five riders slowing down. 

There were some bastards who needed to pay. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what up, folks, we ain't done yet! Thank you to each and every one of you guys for your kudos and comments, they mean the absolute world to me. My favorite part of the day is opening up my emails and reading all your guys' reactions. Remember to take care of yourselves and take a break for your mental health!


	15. Can I Get A Witness

Dream was somewhere between unconscious and awake during the trip to Origin, if he were being perfectly honest. The effects of the regen potion were messing with his head, once the last trickles of adrenaline had faded away and he was left with bone-deep exhaustion. The pressing heat of the nether did nothing to help, so he settled for gripping Sapnap tightly and trying to sleep the worst of the regen away so he could _think._ Once he felt himself slipping from the horse when they traversed a particularly rough patch, but Sapnap caught him before he could fall. 

Phil was up ahead, double checking their coordinates. George, Techno and Tommy circled the area, warding off any curious mobs, and Dream smiled to himself when he saw Tommy sitting at the ready, mouth an ever-steady stream of meaningless commentary but gaze never missing a detail. 

_He’ll do good._

Sapnap reached back and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey sleepyhead, Phil’s building the portal. You ready?” 

Thick fog threatened to drag him back down into meaninglessness, but he struggled out of it and nodded. Their party was missing too many people, and it was about damn time he did his job right and brought them all back home. 

The warped effects of the nether portal very nearly knocked him out again, but nothing served better to wake him up than the sounds and smells of people. 

The portal had opened into an alleyway, part of the frame melted into the side of one of the buildings. Just beyond was a crowded street, packed with the smelly bodies of people trying to survive the day. One by one the horses filed out, Phil bringing up the rear. The crow hybrid drew his sword and with a mighty heave, crashed it through the frame of the portal. The purple film offering a path to the underworld flickered before vanishing, and only a couple more hacks served to make the portal irreparable. 

“Let’s not just stand around,” he urged, tucking his wings close around him. They rested over his shoulders like a cloak, feathers settling until they looked like unbroken, silky fabric. “We just broke like, three major laws coming through that portal here.” 

“Not that anyone cares enough to prosecute down here,” George scoffed under his breath. He adjusted his goggles down over his eyes, jaw set with determination. “I can lead us to the holding facilities from here, I think. We’re only a couple chunks away from oh-hundred.” 

Oh-hundred, the base coordinates of 0, 0, 0 - the heart of Origin, where young and old, wealthy and poor came back to life in the public respawn house, where you were either lucky to have a family member waiting or unlucky to be shoved aside to fend for yourself - unless, of course, one could afford a bed enchantment to reset their private spawn. 

Not many down here could. 

Very few reacted to the horsemen who randomly appeared from the alley, pushing themselves into the main street. Phil climbed on behind Tommy to avoid being swept up or losing something valuable to pickpockets, and they fell into the flow of traffic at a pace slower than comfortable. For the most part, however, they blended in with the mosh of people - no skin was the same color, no amount of horns or limbs or shapes identical. 

Their pace was helped by the fact that George had his sword drawn and was riding rigidly, staring down anyone who got in their way with the air of a tired palace guard who’d seen too much shit to care anymore. People tended to move quickly when a blade was involved.

Dream inhaled deeply, wrinkling his nose against smoke and sewage as he readjusted his hood. The public didn’t know what he looked like, but it didn’t stop him from hiding his face in shadow. The hunters probably already knew they were there. It was a race against the clock, one he was determined to win. 

“They know we’re here,” Sapnap muttered, subtly gesturing off to the side. Dream followed his gaze in his peripherals and spotted a hooded figure reclined in the shadows of a maize-seller’s stand. Their eyes locked on his figure for a moment too long before sliding away, and Dream swore softly under his breath. 

“You guys keep going, I’ll tail you,” he muttered, slipping off the back of the horse once he was sure there weren’t eyes on him. He quickly worked out of his hoodie and turned it inside out before putting it back on, and now a dirty white hoodie hid him from eyes looking for a figure in green. Then he stooped and ran his hand through a puddle of black oil in the cobblestone of the street and ran it through his hair, staining the dirty blonde black. It smelled terrible, but not much worse than the rest of him. As a final touch, he smeared the oil over his face. Now he had black patches similar to a demon, enderman, or even cow hybrid, and at first glance he could pass for either. 

_Dun dun du du dun dun du du…_

He hummed quietly under his breath as he slipped through the shadows of buildings, shadowing the others and letting them draw the hunters’ attention. Subtlety was a bit of a moot point by now, so they needed to throw off the hunters’ headcount. 

George was aiming for a squat warehouse nestled between a bakery and potions shop. There were no guards at the entrance, but if Dream skirted the square he could make out figures on the roof - so the entrance was being watched. He jogged up to Tommy’s horse and tapped the boy’s leg. When Tommy glanced down, he had to do a double take. 

“Tommy with me,” he said. “The rest of you go through the front entrance and cause a scene, meet me at the cellblock.” 

“Why do I have to come with _you?_ I can take care of myself, you don’t have to babysit me.” 

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

* * *

No one was under any illusions that this was a stealth mission, at this point. People were beginning to recognize him and Phil, and if that wasn’t enough motivation to get out of the way, they were riding with dark looks and hands resting on weapons. The Blood God, Angel of Death, a Competitive Manhunter, and a blaze hybrid-slash-guardsman were more than enough to clear out whatever challenge lay inside the hunters’ scummy operations. 

Oh yeah, and Tommy. Techno didn’t expect much from him, but the kid had enough scrap to last as long as Dream and had stayed alive during the final skirmish. Speaking of the kid, when Techno glanced over at his horse, he found that the blonde had disappeared and only Philza remained. Then he realized Dream had disappeared, too. 

Techno began to second-guess his initial assessment of Tommy. 

“There’s no one at the front door to meet us,” Phil said nonchalantly as they dismounted and stared at the warehouse doors. “Should we knock?” 

“Nah,” George said, and with a couple powerful kicks, had broken the bolt securing the iron door. “Oh, that’s so much easier when you’re not fresh off respawn.” 

“Can’t relate,” Techno grinned, drawing his sword with a hair-raising hum. He went first, finding a switch against the wall. When he flicked it on, lights revealed a small eating area with a bar, several kegs, and a door in the back leading further into the building. It was also completely empty. 

_Ambush, definitely an ambush, what do you say chat, ambush, yep definitely an ambush, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3 -_

Techno was moving even before the first man revealed himself, sidestepping a stab and returning the favor with a blade through the gut. He was dropping and he moved onto the next one, ducking under an arrow (who fired arrows in close quarters?) that nearly pinned Sapnap’s head to a wall. The hybrid caught it midair and it burst into flames. Phil swept past him, and he ducked under flaring wings. 

“A bunch of bullies, really,” Phil wrinkled his nose. The hunter struggling in his arms stilled when he twisted their neck with a swift crack. Techno inspected the stains on his cape while George and Sapnap finished off the last, eh, five? Sapnap had one pinned to the wall with his hand on their face, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. 

George was doing fantastic for being the only human there, ducking and dodging like a seasoned athlete. His left hand was bleeding, so he’d switched his sword to his other hand midair and punched one in the nose. Sapnap decapitated a third, before promptly dispatching a fourth. George was the last to finish - the last hunter had tried to choke him, so he’d knocked them onto the floor and put a heel through their head. 

“There’s certainly blood tonight, boys,” Techno laughed, resting his blade on his shoulder. Phil pried through the next door and swept through, revealing a longer hallway with several doors. 

“These are just quarters,” George said, moving past him. “Cells are downstairs. That’s where the rest of them will be.” 

* * *

Tommy would be excited if he didn’t feel so sick to his stomach with nervousness. Dream had slipped into the bakery’s storage room and he followed him, trusting that his friend had a plan, only to see him changing out of his hoodie and wiping grease off his face. 

“I don’t know if I’ve told you this before but you smell like shit, man,” Tommy ribbed. “Of course I do too. Everyone does. It’s just a smelly day for all of us. Why are we back here and not kicking arse with the others?” 

“They have guards on the roof,” Dream said, and turned his hoodie inside out to reveal the green version. A reversible jacket - clever, and now Tommy really wanted something all spy-shit like that. “You and I are going to take them out and enter that way.” 

There was the faint sound of someone screaming. Tommy whirled, hand on his sword, but Dream only grinned and flipped his hood up. “That’s our cue. Come on.” 

“Where - ”

Dream climbed up onto one of the shelves and pushed one of the overhead panels aside. Tommy realized there was a crawl space overhead, and this was what Dream pulled himself into. He was left with no choice but to follow into pitch blackness where there was probably any manner of spiders waiting to suck his brains out. 

“How do you do these kinds of things?” Tommy hissed. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that? You just find convenient shit like this.” 

“Tommy, you’ll learn that ninety percent of life is a gamble. The other ten percent is knowing where you want to go and the best way to get there.” 

“What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean.” 

“It means that I think on the fly.” Dream’s boot caught his chin and he sputtered, snatching his hand out of a cobweb that he _swore_ had something moving in it. “Cover your head, I think there’s a glass panel here that’s been shingled over.” 

Something crunched, and glass rained down on Tommy. A tiny crack of light filtered down, revealing Dream kicking at the roof - 

_Crack._

“Aha,” Dream grinned, pressing a hand against the exposed shingle. He wedged his axe in between the sandstone slabs and carefully pried a few away, letting fresh air into a space that probably hadn’t seen daylight in decades. Across from them was the hunter’s main base, and it looked _so much_ uglier from above - the rooftop was stained in blood (Tommy did _not_ want to know), and iron railing lined the entire open area. Six guards were around the perimeter, though two were aiming down at the street and the other four were looking at the hatch leading down inside. 

Dream leapt. That got their attention pretty quick.

He was ready before his feet even hit the ground, and Tommy got the sense that he was watching a Hypixel champion now. He moved like a dancer, with grace he’d been lacking in the skirmish in the woods. The hunters came in high, but he went low - with the sweep of a foot he got ahold of one of their crossbows, with a twist here he’d disarmed another, and before he’d even finished with that one he was shooting the one running for the hatch in the neck. 

By the time Tommy had jumped the gap between the bakery and the prison, Dream was dropping the last one. 

(He was tired of seeing bodies, he thought as he stepped over one in a puddle of their one blood. His boots had been covered in blood and respawn dust for too long, and he really, really didn’t like this game.) 

“Keep up,” Dream said, loading his stolen crossbow and shooting out the lock on the hatch. Someone was already climbing up the ladder under it, so he pulled his axe off his back and broke off the hinges as well. With a few powerful stomps, the metal warped and collapsed through the hole. Dream jumped down after it. 

Someone screamed. Tommy winced, feeling sorry for whoever had gotten crushed, and slid down. 

At the bottom of the access was a one-way hallway. Tommy spotted several chests along the wall, so while Dream dispatched the two hunters there, he began looting. 

“Hey Dream,” he grinned, holding up a prize. Dream felled the cat hybrid he’d been fighting and turned, wiping blood off his axe with his sleeve. “Look what I found.” 

Dream took one of the brightly colored explosives and grinned. 

* * *

Punz counted the minutes by the pauses between drips. The ceiling dribbled purple fluid constantly, and he wanted to know what in the living hell made obsidian “cry.” It was _obsidian._ Obsidian wasn’t supposed to _cry._

Also, he was never wearing white again. Sure, the shades of red and purple permanently staining it was cool and he’d definitely be wearing this hoodie on any bounties he took because who else could say they had a garment stained by crying obsidian and blood, but still. White. 

He could also rightfully claim that the obsidian was from a cell of the Fortran Hunters, an anarchy league whose name carried weight. He’d grown up hearing stories about them. They were the kinds of horror stories to be told in pubs, dark alleyways, and at midnight around a campfire. 

Dream hadn’t grown up with them. 

Dream had grown up with a lot of other things, of course, and knew the grumble of poverty as well as Punz did. But Dream had had a sister to look after, so he didn’t frequent the same places. He’d set his eyes on the soaring towers of Hypixel and didn’t deviate until he’d made it there. The street kids of Origin had laughed at him when he bragged about how famous he’d be, but he’d had a special, naive sort of optimism that made them eventually stop laughing. 

_“Dream, there are people coming into the city.”_

_“There are always people coming into the city, Punz, you’re going to have to be more specific.”_

_“I mean they look like a hunting party. They’re armed.”_

_“Are they aggressive?”_

_“No, they’re flying a white banner. But something about them is off. We need to lower the castle gates.”_

_“If we lower the castle gates, where does that leave the people in the city? No. We’ll arm the men and tell the kids to hide if worst comes to worst.”_

_“Dream, I don’t think they’d - ”_

_“Punz. Go arm the men. That’s an order.”_

Punz sighed and leaned his head against the wall. At the end of the day, neither of them were to blame. It was the leniency of Esempi’s policies that had let the hunters close enough in the first place. 

“The minute I get out of here, you’re all dead men,” he muttered under his breath, absently scrubbing at stains on his hands. The guard in front of his cell didn’t react. Neither did the one in front of the cell across from him, where Punz could make out Wilbur slumped against the wall. 

Punz had been here since the raid on the castle of Esempi - most of the others had been taken to be hunted. He wasn’t sure yet if that was an insult or compliment to his skill - all he knew was that Bad had been left a few cells down, and they’d called news back and forth (not that there was much news to begin with) when the guards were feeling lenient or were drunk. (Those two events usually coincided.) George had made an appearance once overnight, presumably killed on a hunt, but he was nearly unconscious when Punz had seen him. There hadn’t been much of a chance to get an idea of what was going on in the hunting grounds. 

Wilbur, at least, had a handle on what was going on. One night between guard shifts, he’d leaned against the bars of his cell and brought Bad and Punz up to date. 

_I think that the rest of us, we were the appetizers,_ he’d mused. _They’re all going after Dream now. I don’t think they anticipated us giving as good as we’d gotten._

The hunters had returned then, and Punz had been left with more questions than answers and satisfaction stewing in his gut. 

_Not anymore,_ he thought as he watched Wilbur sing softly under his breath, voice hoarse as he stroked the hair of a girl lying unconscious in his lap. 

Drista still hadn’t woken up since they’d brought her in half a day ago from the respawn house. While it wasn’t uncommon for the reparation process of respawn to last several days, most people woke up within a few hours. She was still out cold, face deathly grey but pulse steady. 

He wondered where she’d been before she was killed. He didn’t remember her dying at the castle with the rest of them, and the tunic she was wearing wasn’t of Esempi make.

(And she’d been killed. There were rips in the side of her tunic that had the telltale mark of a crossbow bolt, right under the armpit, where there was a gap in most standard armor. Whoever the marksman, they were either very skilled or a lucky shot.) 

It made him want to sink a dull sword through the chest of every Fortran Hunter that ever dared to breathe. But he was forced to wait, coiled like a serpent as the moments ticked by and the crying obsidian cried. 

The dungeon trembled, and everyone’s head snapped up. Somewhere upstairs was the muffled squeal of fireworks and explosions. The guards tensed but didn’t move, like they’d been anticipating this, nervously glancing towards the iron door at the end of the hall. Wilbur carefully slid Drista off his lap and scooted to where he could see the door. 

Punz locked eyes with Wilbur, and they moved at the same time, lunging up and grabbing their guards. Punz snagged one’s braid and cracked their head against the bars while Wilbur did the same, and two bodies dropped like potato sacks to the stone floor. The one in front of Bad’s cell shouted and bolted for the door. He reached it just as it blew open and was promptly decked by the newcomers. 

“It only took you two fucking weeks,” Punz snapped from where he was rifling his guard for a set of keys. 

“Language!” Bad called. “But yeah, what the muffin was the holdup?” 

“Politics,” Dream said, tossing the fireworks launcher he was holding to Sapnap. “Also the part where I was running for my life. You know how it is.” 

“Can’t relate,” Technoblade, _the_ Technoblade, hummed behind them. “Noobs.” 

Punz located the keys and unlocked his cell, and finally, _finally_ stepped free. “Did you leave _any_ of the hunters for me?” 

Dream’s only answer was snatching the keys out of Punz’ hand and fumbling at Wilbur’s cell, eyes locked on Drista. “Is she - ?” 

“She’s alive,” Wilbur assured. “She just hasn’t woken up yet.”

A dark look crossed Dream’s face, and Punz realized with a jolt that he wasn’t wearing his mask. He never lost his mask in the fighting. Tumblers turned and the cell door opened, and he was on his knees in the crying obsidian mess in a heartbeat as he checked her over. 

Others were filing into the cellblock. Punz took roll - Tommy was there, looking the worse for wear but still intact. George and Sapnap were working on releasing Bad. Technoblade leaned against the wall and crossed his arms with his gaze fixed on Drista, and Philza Minecraft - the Angel of Death himself, Dream wasn’t kidding when he’d said politics - hovered in the doorway with a sword still dripping blood. 

Damn. Punz would be hard pressed to find a Fortran hunter left alive in the city. 

“Drista,” Dream whispered, shaking her shoulder. Punz pretended he didn’t hear his voice crack. “Drista, get up. Please wake up?” 

For a long moment, Punz thought they’d have to carry her out of there and find a doctor whose default wasn’t tipping a health pot down someone’s throat and calling it a day. But then she moaned and turned her head slightly, face scrunching when her face met a puddle of purple. “‘S too early,” she mumbled. “Go ‘way, Clay.” 

Dream let out something between a sob and a snort, poking her in the face. “No. It’s time to get up, we have to go. Can you get up?” 

“E’thing hurts,” she grumbled, and finally opened her eyes. “Where the hell are we?” 

“What do you remember?” 

“Uh… snow. Leaving Tubbo at Sally’s? And some weird looking purple gate to hell, I think. And waffles. I’m really, really craving waffles.” 

“You ate all my waffles,” Technoblade complained, pushing himself off the wall. 

“Who are you?” 

Technoblade froze, and for some reason his mouth tightened in pain. Philza winced and Dream’s mouth quirked downwards in concern. Drista only snorted. “I’m just messing with you, Techno.” 

“I can’t believe I dedicated as much time as I did to a twelve year old.”

“You can’t default to that insult all the time, old man - ”

“You are a literal child _\- ”_

“I am fifteen years old, you’re just jealous!” 

“Like I said, ten years old.” 

“Hey, as soon as I can stand up without throwing up it is _on.”_

“As the wise masters once said, come at me bro.” 

Punz rubbed the bridge of his nose and decided that there was no real reason to stick around here, and started looting the guards while Drista and Technoblade bickered. “While you guys figure yourselves out, I’m gonna go raid the place,” he said, and drew his newly acquired sword on the off chance that maybe a hunter or two would crawl out of the woodwork. “Might as well make this headache worth it.” 

“Punz,” Dream said, stopping him before he could make it to the door. He turned. “I’m sorry.” There was a lot of sentimentality to unpack there, so Punz just nodded stiffly. Dream absently chewed on his lip. “Will you be back?” 

“Back to Esempi, or back here?” 

Dream tilted his head. Ironic how the same motion could have so many meanings, depending on the context of the situation. _Both?_ it asked this time. Punz sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’ll return to Esempi,” he promised. “But I want to clean up, get my bearings, maybe visit my brother. I know he’s been jumping up the Bedwars scoreboard. He deserves to have me there to see it.” 

Dream looked away and nodded, face suddenly blank. “Yeah. Alright.”

Punz left. The space had been too crowded for conversation anyways. 

* * *

I designed Drista's armor because I was bored so yeah this is what she looked like while kicking ass in the woods 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pushes glasses on forehead and rubs eyes* the ccs create the main plot to escape reality and we create fanfiction to escape the main plot. And then we go back to reality to escape the mindless surfing of fanfiction. It's an endless cycle. Anyways ya'll come get your juice, don't forget to leave a like and a comment if you haven't already and if you liked this content, please remember to subscribe so you'll get notified for more and ohmygoshivebeenwatchingtoomuchyoutubelately.
> 
> You are loved and blessed and protected and accepted, don't forget to focus on your sleep schedule (melatonin does wonders lemme tell you), remember to drink water and eat, and take your meds if you haven't already! And put away your screens for a few minutes. We promote self-care and good mental health in this household. 
> 
> Until next time loves (and it may no be so far away that this story may draw to a close and we must move on to other stories), take care! <3
> 
> Edit: it has recently come to my attention that in my fear of making Drista a Mary Sue I have denied her proper kickassery so that will come quickly, no fear


End file.
